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BX~9178"TJ3  M3  1869 
James,  William,  1797-1868. 
The  marriage  of  the  king  s 
son 


THE 


MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON, 


THE   GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF: 


By    rev.    WILLIAM    JAMES. 


WITH    SOME    MEMORIALS    OF    HIS   LIFE. 


NEW    YORK: 

ANSON    D.    F.    RANDOLPH    k.    COMPANY, 

770,  Broadway. 

1869. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 

ANSON   D.    F.    RANDOLPH   AND   COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


Cambridge: 
press  of  john  wilson  and  son. 


PREFATORY   NOTE. 


npHE  two  sermons  here  given  represent  the 
quahty  of  the  preaching  of  the  late  Rev. 
William  James.  Rev.  Henry  Neill,  for  a 
long  time  his  intimate  friend,  was  requested  to 
furnish  his  recollections  of  Mr.  James,  which 
he  has  done  in  the  Letter  herewith  published. 
Rev.  W.  B.  Sprague  has  also  consented  to  the 
republication  here,  of  the  narrative  portions  of 
his  funeral  discourse.  Besides  these,  the  pres- 
ent volume  contains  two  Letters ;  one  of  which 
gives  an  extended  statement  respecting  his  faith 
and  hope,  written  in  the  prospect  of  approaching 
death. 

The  volume  is  pubhshed  for  the  sake  of  his 
friends,  and  in  the  hope  also  that  a  wider  circle 
may  find  in  it  strength  for  the  spiritual  Hfe. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Prefatory  Note 7 

Outline   of    Mr.   James's    Life.     By   Rev.    Wm.    B. 

Sprague   9 

View   of   Mr.   James's    Character    and    Life.      By 

Rev.  Henry  Neill ^7 

Letters 

Sermons : 

L  The  Marriage  of  the  King's  Son     ....     89 

IL  The  Guilt  of  Unbelief "3 


OUTLINE 


OF 


MR.     J  A  M  E  S'S     LIFE. 


OUTLINE   OF   MR.   JAMES'S   LIFE. 

From  the  Discourse  delivered  at  his  Ftmeral, 
By  rev.  WM.  B.  SPRAGUE. 


XT/'ILLIAM  JAMES,  a  son  of  William  and  Eliza- 
'  ^  beth  (Tighlman)  James,  was  born  in  this  city, 
on  the  ist  of  June,  1797.  His  father  had  emigrated 
from  Ireland  to  this  country  in  1793,  and  was  for  many 
years  among  our  most  wealthy  and  influential  citizens. 
William  spent  his  earliest  years  at  home,  and,  during 
part  of  the  time,  enjoyed  the  instruction  of  that  justly 
celebrated  scholar  and  teacher,  formerly  pastor  of  the 
First  Presbyterian  Church,  the  Rev.  John  McDonald. 
At  the  age  of  fourteen,  he  was  admitted  a  member  of 
Dr.  Banks's  Academy  at  Florida  ;  where  he  completed 
his  course  preparatory  to  entering  College.  In  1813, 
he  joined  the  Sophomore  class  of  Princeton  College, 
and  in  181 6  was  admitted  to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
Arts ;  having  for  his  classmates  Governor  McDowell, 
of  Virginia,  Bishop  Mcllvaine,  of  Ohio,  Dr.  McLean, 
the  late  President  of  the  College,  and  several  others 
of  distinguished  name.  He  had  had  religious  impres- 
sions, at  different  periods,  from  early  childhood,  but 
it  was  not  till  the  memorable  revival  of  1815  in  the 


lO  OUTLINE   OF  MR.  JAMES'S  LIFE. 

College  of  which  he  was  a  member,  that  he  allowed 
himself  to  hope  that  he  had  become  the  subject  of  a 
spiritual  renovation,  and,  as  a  consequence,  made  a 
public  profession  of  his  faith.  He  joined  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary  at  Princeton  in  1816,  shortly  after 
his  graduation ;  and,  having  completed  his  course 
there,  and  spent  a  short  time  in  prosecuting  his  studies 
elsewhere,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Pres- 
bytery of  Albany  in  September,  1820.  His  health 
being,  at  this  time,  considerably  impaired,  he  crossed 
the  ocean  almost  immediately  after  his  licensure,  and 
passed  about  twenty  months,  chiefly  in  Scotland,  divid- 
ing his  time  between  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh.  Dur- 
ing this  period  he  lived  in  comparative  retirement, 
conversing  more  with  books  than  with  men ;  and 
though  within  a  few  minutes'  walk  of  some  of  the 
greatest  spirits  of  the  age,  he  seems  to  have  studiously 
avoided  even  an  introduction  to  them. 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  this  country,  he  com- 
menced preaching  in  the  Murray-street  Church,  New 
York,  where  Dr.  Mason  had  previously  exercised  his 
ministry,  and  continued  thus  engaged  for  six  months. 
For  a  year  and  a  half  after  this,  he  preached  as  a 
stated  supply  to  a  congregation  formed  partly  from 
Clarkson  and  partly  from  Brockport,  in  the  western 
part  of  this  State,  and  then  removed  to  Rochester,  and 
became  the  pastor  of  the  Second  Church  there,  in 
which  relation  he  continued  for  six  years.  In  Janu- 
ary, 183 1,  he  resigned  this  charge  and  came  to  Sche- 


OUTLINE    OF  MR.  JAMES'S  LIFE.  n 

nectady,  where  he  occupied  the  pulpit  of  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
congregation,  till  July,  1832.  He  left  this  position  by 
reason  of  the  failure  of  his  health  ;  and,  after  a  few 
months,  returned  to  this  his  native  place,  and,  in  the 
fall  of  1833,  accepted  a  call  to  become  the  pastor  of 
our  Third  Church.  Here  he  remained  till  February, 
1835,  when  he  resigned  the  last  charge  he  ever  held, 
though  he  continued  to  have  his  home  in  the  inidst 
of  us  till  the  close  of  life.  During  the  twenty-three 
years  that  have  passed  since  that  time,  he  has  devoted 
himself  much  to  philosophical  and  theological  re- 
search, though  I  am  not  aware  that  any  of  the  results 
of  these  labors  have  been  given  to  the  world ;  and 
w^henever  he  has  consented  to  occupy  the  pulpits  of 
any  of  his  brethren,  here  or  elsewhere,  I  believe  he 
has  been  uniformly  listened  to,  not  only  with  fixed  at- 
tention, but  with  marked  admiration.  Of  his  last  ill- 
ness I  need  not  speak :  you  all  know  the  alternate 
hope  and  anxiety  that  have  been  expressed  con- 
cerning him  on  every  side,  and  how  his  malady  has 
resisted  all  medical  skill,  until  it  has  finally  had  its 
issue  in  his  being  brought  hither  on  his  way  to  the 
grave. 

I  trust  it  will  not  be  thought  an  infringement  of  the 
proprieties  of  the  hour,  that  I  here  state  briefly  some 
of  my  own  personal  recollections  and  impressions  con- 
cerning our  departed  friend,  that  have  been  accumulat- 
ing during  a  familiar  acquaintance  of  upwards  of  half 


12  OUTLINE   OF  MR.   JAMES'S  LIFE. 

a  century.  Our  first  meeting  was  when  we  both 
joined  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton  in  the 
fall  of  1816.  During  the  first  month  or  two  after  we 
became  thus  associated,  I  had  scarcely  any  knowledge 
of  him  except  from  meeting  him  in  the  class  ;  but  even 
then  and  there  he  develoj^ed  traits  of  character  that 
seemed  to  foreshadow  the  man  of  mark.  Our  ac- 
quaintance, however,  after  it  commenced,  soon  became 
intimate  ;  and  one  of  the  first  revelations  he  made  to 
me  was,  that  he  was  doubtful  and  dissatisfied  in  respect 
to  his  own  spiritual  condition.  I  knew  of  his  going  to 
unburden  his  spirit  to  our  venerable  professor,  Dr. 
Alexander,  whose  familiar  acquaintance  with  all  the 
various  phases  of  Christian  experience  rendered  him  a 
most  competent  counsellor.  I  do  not  think  that  this 
season  of  darkness  was  of  very  long  continuance, 
though  I  believe  his  religious  exercises  often  took  on  a 
morbid  cast,  and  always  received  a  tinge,  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree,  from  his  peculiar,  I  might  almost  say 
unique,  intellectual  and  moral  constitution.  His  ca- 
reer in  the  Seminary  left  no  one  who  witnessed  it  in 
doubt  that  he  possessed  talents  of  a  very  high  order, 
especially  the  talent  for  writing  and  public  speaking ; 
and,  if  my  memory  is  not  at  fault,  the  very  finest  speci- 
mens of  pulpit  oratory  that  ever  I  heard  from  him,  w^ere 
before  he  had  yet  entered  a  pulpit.  Shortly  after  I 
was  settled  in  the  ministry,  he  came  to  visit  me  at  my 
new  home  ;  and  we  passed  a  few  days  delightfully 
together ;  and  he,  being  in  an  uncommonly  genial  and 


OUTLINE    OF  MR.  JAMES'S  LIFE.  13 

vivacious  mood,  became  an  attraction  to  all  whom  he 
met.  He  occupied  my  pulpit  also,  and  thrilled  the 
audience  by  two  very  able  and  eloquent  discourses. 
Not  long  after  my  removal  to  this  city,  he  became  a 
pastor  here  by  the  side  of  me,  and  I  accounted  it  a 
privilege  that  I  was  permitted  to  assist  in  introducing 
him  to  his  new  charge.  During  his  ministry  here  and 
ever  since,  the  same  fraternal  relations  between  us  that 
commenced  at  Princeton  have  been  preserved.  He  has 
often  accommodated  me,  and  gratified  my  congrega- 
tion, by  occupying  my  pulpit  when  I  have  been  absent ; 
and  though,  when  I  have  asked  this  favor  of  him,  he 
has  several  times  given  me  a  negative  answer,  yet,  I 
believe  in  nearly  every  instance,  reflection  has  brought 
his  kindly  spirit  into  such  vigorous  exercise  as  to  sug- 
gest to  him  some  way  in  which  the  obstacles  to  a  com- 
pliance with  my  request  could  be  surmounted.  I  have 
seen  him  in  every  stage  of  his  last  illness,  from  the 
time  that  his  daily  labors  were  only  occasionally  inter- 
rupted by  suffering,  until  he  had  fallen  into  that  iron 
sleep  that  was  ominous  of  immediate  death  ;  and  what 
has  impressed  me,  during  the  whole,  more  than  any 
thing  else,  has  been  the  perfect  naturalness  of  his  whole 
demeanor :  in  the  aged  suffering  minister  whom  I 
saw  before  me,  I  could  recognize  every  characteristic 
of  my  friend  and  classmate  of  181 6.  I  always  found 
him  cheerful,  and  retaining  a  deep  interest  in  the  past, 
while  yet  it  was  manifest  that  his  thoughts  were  much 
upon   the   invisible   and   eternal.     In   one   of   our  last 


H 


OUTLINE    OF  MR.  JAMES'S  LIFE. 


interviews  he  expressed  to  me,  in  the  strongest  terms 
possible,  the  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  but  added 
that,  in  God's  revealed  truth,  he  found  all  the  needed 
comfort  and  hope.  I  was  at  his  bedside  after  he  had 
ceased  to  be  conscious,  and  while  the  current  of  life 
was  fast  ebbing  away ;  but  I  could  not  doubt  that  the 
sad  demonstrations  on  which  my  eye  rested,  were  only 
the  preparation  for  the  ascent  of  a  ransomed  s^^irit  to 
its  glorious,  eternal  home. 

In  what  I  have  said  of  the  life  of  our  honored  friend, 
I  have  supj^lied  the  material  from  which  may  be  formed 
at  least  a  general  estimate  of  his  character ;  but  you 
will  allow  me,  notwithstanding,  to  add  a  few  words, 
illustrative  of  some  of  its  more  striking  features.  His 
mind  was  generally  teeming  with  profound  thought, 
and  was  never  in  its  element  while  moving  in  a  beaten 
track.  His  taste  in  composition  was  so  remarkably 
exact  as  to  set  at  defiance  the  sternest  criticism.  His 
discourses  for  the  j^Lilpit  were  generally  elaborated 
with  the  utmost  care,  and  it  must  be  acknowledged 
were  better  fitted  to  furnish  material  for  thought  to 
thoroughly  disciplined  minds,  than  to  minister  to  the 
gratification  of  the  superficial  and  emotional  hearer ; 
though  I  have  scarcely  known  any  preacher  who  was 
more  generally  acceptable  to  all  classes  than  he.  His 
manner  was  a  striking  compound  of  earnestness  and 
energy,  that  left  no  one  in  doubt  that  his  utterances 
were  from  his  inmost  heart ;  and  I  have  sometimes 
heard  him,  esi^ecially  in  his  earlier  days,  when  he  rose 


OUTLINE    OF  MR.  JAMES'S  LIFE.  15 

to  a  pitch  of  enthusiasm  that  might  have  been  likened 
to  the  rushing  tempest.  He  had  a  large  and  generous 
heart,  that  responded  readily  to  the  claims  of  want 
and  woe,  not  only  in  Christian  sympathy,  but  in  liberal 
contributions.  He  was  naturally  impulsive,  and  some- 
times "the  sober  second  thought"  changed  his  judg- 
ment and  his  purpose  altogether ;  for  he  was  too 
magnanimous  to  hold  to  an  error  for  the  sake  of  being 
consistent.  He  doubtless  judged  correctly  in  retiring 
from  the  regular  duties  of  the  ministry  in  his  latter 
years ;  for,  while  he  had  great  power  in  the  pulpit, 
which  he  never  ceased  to  exercise  occasionally  as  long 
as  his  health  would  permit,  he  was  fully  aware  that  his 
peculiarities  of  temperament  were  not  in  harmony  with 
the  uniform  routine  of  pastoral  life.  His  high  intelli- 
gence and  genial  spirit  came  out  in  his  private  inter- 
course, and  he  has  left  behind  him  many  a  friend  who 
will  hold  these  attractive  qualities  in  grateful  and  en- 
during remembrance.  I  cannot  forbear  to  mention,  in 
this  connection,  a  circumstance,  strikingly  illustrative 
of  his  character,  that  has  been  communicated  to  me 
since  his  death.  A  gentleman,  now  occupying  one  of 
the,  highest  military  positions  in  the  land,  informed  me 
that,  while  Mr.  James  was  a  pastor  at  Rochester,  he 
was  himself  brought  to  a  deep  sense  of  his  sinfulness, 
and,  through  the  kindness  of  some  friend,  was  intro- 
duced to  Mr.  James  as  a  counsellor.  Instead  of  mak- 
ing particular  inquiries  concerning   the   state    of   his 


1 6  OUTLINE   OF  MR.  JAMES'S  LIFE. 

for  a  few  moments  in  silence,  and  then  opened  the 
Bible,  and  bade  him  read  and  study  the  first  chapter  of 
the  second  Epistle  of  Peter,  and  endeavor  to  bring  his 
heart  and  life  into  unison  with  its  teachings  and  spirit ; 
after  which  he  offered  a  deeply  solemn  and  fervent 
prayer  in  his  behalf,  and  then  allowed  him  to  retire. 
That  interview  resulted  in  the  conversion  of  one  whose 
whole  subsequent  life  has  furnished  the  proof  that  there 
is  a  power  in  religion  to  withstand  the  temptations  in- 
cident to  the  exercise  of  the  highest  military  authority. 
I  mention  this,  not  so  much  as  a  gratifying  instance  of 
the  good  effect  of  his  ministry,  as  an  illustration  of  the 
peculiar  manner  in  which  he  exercised  it.  It  is  safe 
to  say  that  his  noble  qualities  of  mind  and  heart  have 
impressed  themselves  deeply  on  his  contemporaries  ; 
while  the  peculiarity,  I  may  say  the  originality,  of  his 
entire  character  will  help  to  keep  the  impression  more 
vivid,  and  to  render  it  more  enduring. 


VIEW   OF   MR.  JAMES'S   CHARACTER 
AND    LIFE: 

IN     A     LETTER      COMMUNICATED, 
By  rev.    henry  NEILL. 


My  dear  Sir  : 

T  HAVE  received  your  request ;  but  w^e  have  all  felt 
•*-  that  a  peculiar  and  formidable  obstacle  presents 
itself  in  every  attempt  to  give  a  definite  outline  to  the 
character  or  gifts  of  Mr.  James. 

I  refer  to  that  breadth  and  universality  which  con- 
stituted his  identity ;  and  which  caused  a  conductor 
of  the  public  press  in  Albany  to  write,  "  We  know 
of  no  pen  or  voice  capable  of  rendering  his  qualities 
adequate  justice." 

Many  persons  of  no  ordinary  intellect  have  said, 
that,  when  in  his  presence,  they  were  always  affected 
with  a  sense  of  awe  at  the  magnitude  and  variety  of 
his  inherited  force  and  facult}^,  at  his  instinctive  dis- 
cernments, and  the  scope  of  his  carefully  gained 
acquisitions. 

And  yet  who  that  saw  him  often,  had  any  doubt 
that  he  held  himself  singularly  indifferent  to  every 
form  of  natural  bestowment,   and  of  external  advan- 


l8  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

tage  (in  which  also  he  largely  shared),  by  reason  of  a 
master  passion  of  surpassing  beauty  and  power  con- 
stantly working  in  him,  even  a  never-ceasing  desire  to 
be  in  harmony  with  the  Divine  mind,  in  spirit,  and  in 
movement?  He  panted  after  God,  and  assimilation 
to  Him  in  impulse  and  in  action,  as  the  hart  panteth 
after  the  water-brooks.  "  I  want  holiness  so  much," 
he  writes,  in  a  letter  dated  December,  1856,  "  that  I 
might  say  I  want  nothing  else.  One  additional  grain 
of  holiness  or  conformity  to  God,  with  a  consciousness 
that  God  was  pleased  with  it,  would  outweigh  a  uni- 
verse of  every  other  kind  of  good."  This  statement 
contains  the  key-note  of  his  life.  The  desire  expressed 
in  it,  animated  him  at  Princeton  ;  led  him  to  Dr.  Gor- 
don rather  than  to  Chalmers,  at  Edinburgh ;  ab- 
sorbed him  at  New  York  on  his  return  from  Scot- 
land, when  preaching  to  crowded  assemblies  from  the 
pulpit  made  vacant  by  the  death  of  Dr.  John  Mason  ; 
gave  direction  to  his  thoughts  at  Rochester,  so  much 
so  that  he  was  known  as  "  the  minister  who  desired 
to  be  sanctified  ;  "  and,  since  then,  has  been  ever  re- 
vealing itself,  in  letters  ;  in  the  selection  of  friends  ; 
in  the  choice  of  books ;  in  themes  for  sermons ;  in 
essays  ;  in  conversation  ;  in  journeyings  (for  he  never 
hesitated  to  travel  a  hundred  miles  to  visit  one  whose 
doubts  or  fears  he  could  not  allay  by  his  pen)  ;  in  the 
language  and  tone  of  his  devotions,  never  to  be  for- 
gotten by  any  who  ever  heard  his  words  in  prayer ; 
until  desire  merged  itself  into  a  kiioivledge  and  enjoy- 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER. 


19 


ment  of  God,  seldom  granted  in  this  world  to  the 
fallen  sons  of  men.  The  unrest  that  at  times  appeared 
in  him  grew  out  of  a  sorrow  often  expressed  and  pain- 
fully active,  that  he  was  not,  to  his  own  consciousness, 
perfectly  "conformed  to  the  image"  of  God's  dear  Son. 

Greatly  did  many  of  his  friends  admire  the  type  of 
his  piety,  in  its  deep  undertone,  as  well  as  in  its 
strains  of  faith  and  hope  and  victory.  But  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  describe  its  nature,  or  its  sources,  or  its 
growth  (although  he  has  revealed  these  in  his  letters), 
any  more  than  to  measure  the  faculties  through  which 
it  flowed. 

The  most  that  I  shall  now  venture  to  give  utterance 
to,  in  relation  to  Mr.  James,  and  that  not  without  mis- 
giving, is  an  impression,  which  fastened  itself  upon 
me  as  soon  as  I  knew  him ;  which  grew  more  distinct 
during  fifteen  years  of  unreserved  intercourse  ;  and 
which  lost  nothing  of  its  depth  or  tenacity,  as  sick- 
ness and  extreme  torture,  and  a  conscious  approach  to 
the  solemnities  of  eternity,  did  their  dissolving  and 
sanctifying  work. 

Whatever  might  be  the  theme  of  his  conversation,  or 
the  character  of  the  labor  he  was  devising  or  executing, 
I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  one,  in  whom,  al- 
though "  subject  to  like  passions  as  we,"  the  desire  to 
be  "at  one  with  God,"  not  only  regulated  powers  of 
vast  compass,  and  sensibilities  charged  with  vitality, 
but  organized  and  gave  unity  to  the  movement  of  a 
nature  of  immense  volume  ;  so  that  it  was  compelled 


20  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

to  be  constantly  useful,  on  a  scale  commensurate  with 
its  capacity ;  and  yet  so  constrained  by  its  own  ideals 
to  depreciate  itself,  that  it  did  the  grand  work  it  was 
called  to,  with  seldom  an  apprehension  that  it  was 
doing  any  thing. 

It  was  a  splendid  sight  to  see  him  from  1853  to 
1856,  as  I  did,  every  summer  at  Lenox,  with  his 
vigorous  intellect,  his  wealth  of  feeling,  his  firmly  knit 
frame,  his  eye  that  expanded  and  kindled  so  imme- 
diately as  ideal  themes  were  introduced ;  but  it  was 
sublime  to  know  him  from  1862  to  1868,  after  his 
theology  was  adjusted ;  after  doubts  had  ceased  to 
make  their  appearance  ;  after  nature  had  yielded  to 
the  spirit ;  w^ien  every  material  symbol,  and  every 
human  relationship,  constantly  reminded  him  of  its 
counterpart  in  spiritual  bonds  or  Christian  joys  ;  when 
he  began  to  view  the  things  of  time  from  very  much 
the  same  stand-point  that  it  is  supposed  redeemed  men 
look  at  them  after  they  have  left  the  body ;  when  his 
union  with  or  absorption  in  God  seemed  to  gain  rapid 
increase  from  month  to  month  ;  and  when,  without 
losing  a  particle  of  his  manly  charity  and  prodigal 
generosity  and  intellectual  intrepidity,  he  seemed  ready 
at  any  moment  (save  for  that  never-satisfied  and  aching 
thirst  for  greater  conformity  to  the  Divine  mind)  to 
enter  upon  the  employments  and  enjoyments  of  im- 
mortality. 

His  theory  of  the  way  to  grow  in  spiritual  attain- 
ments wrought  so  effectually  in  him    that,  what  was 


HIS  LIFE  AND   CHARACTER.  21 

desire  in  his  earlier  life,  and  in  his  mature  manhood, 
seemed  to  be  in  fulfilment  or  fruition  as  he  ripened  in 
years,  and  reconciled  his  philosophy  with  the  words 
and  promises  of  Scripture. 

Hence,  I  have  felt,  that,  if  he  does  most  for  his  race 
who  reveals  to  his  fellow-mortals  most  of  the  true  God, 
and  in  such  a  way  that  they  shall  receive  and  rejoice 
in  the  knowledge  conferred,  Mr.  James  must  ever 
stand  high  among  the  benefactors  of  his  generation. 
The  knowledge  which  he  imparted  so  earnestly,  elo- 
quently, and  unremittingly  from  his  pen  and  voice,  and 
from  the  purchase  and  distribution  in  uncounted  num- 
bers of  any  books  which  might  further  his  purpose,  he 
gained  at  a  great  cost,  and  by  the  exercise  of  powers 
of  a  high  philosophic  order. 

Having  for  many  years  accustomed  himself  to  con- 
struct his  theological  system,  and  to  gain  his  concep- 
tions of  Jehovah  mainly  from  the  justice  of  God  as 
reflected  in  the  conscience,  it  was  an  era  of  great  de- 
light and  of  vastly  augmented  capacity  to  confer  bless- 
ings upon  others,  when  he  reconstructed  that  system 
so  as  to  make  /ove,  God's  central  attribute,  and  human 
affections  and  intimate  human  relationships  the  organs 
and  types  through  which  that  marvellous  love  was 
recognized  and  reflected.  At  the  same  time  he  relin- 
quished naught  of  his  reverence  and  awe  for  the  holi- 
ness of  Jehovah. 

Hence  a  knowledge  of  man,  as  to  his  nature  and  sus- 
ceptibilities, was  a  study  of  profound  interest  with  him. 


22  BEK    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

"  Without  some  anthropology,  or  true  philosophy  of 
man,"  he  says  in  a  letter  of  March  4,  1862,  "  it  is  im- 
possible to  construct  a  treatise  of  sanctification.  Up- 
ham's,  as  I  think,  being  unsound ;  and  knowing  of  no 
other  which  has  ever  been  applied  to  this  subject  with 
fearless  logic  (unless  it  is  Emmon's,  which  is  f^ir 
worse),  I  have  been  compelled  to  wait  until  a  scheme 
has  formed  itself  in  my  own  mind.  The  ground  prin- 
ciple of  it  came  to  me  as  early  as  1846.  I  felt  that 
without  allowing  much  more  for  man's  original,  natu- 
ral similitude  to  God,  than  was  allowed  in  the  common 
notions  of  people  and  books,  no  doctrine  of  sanctifica- 
tion, however  scriptural  and  sacred  it  might  appear, 
could  be  made  distinct  in  theory,  or  efficient  in  prac- 
tice. .  .  .  The  social  and  religious  instincts  in  man, 
which  appear  simultaneously  with  the  dawn  of  self- 
consciousness,  and  for  a  time  take  distinct  courses, 
are  tending  continually  by  the  laws  of  Providence  to 
merge  into  unity;  and  as  thus  identified,  —  that  is,  as 
far  as  they  are,  —  they  become  the  true  life  of  humanity. 
Sanctification  is  the  identification  of  the  social  and 
the  religious  instincts ;  the  religious  being  the  culmina- 
tion of  the  social.  This  is  the  thought  which  has  been 
working  in  the  upper  or  philosophical  chamber  of  my 
soul  since  1846  ;  whilst  the  fires  of  purgatory  have 
been  working  destruction  to  every  mundane  interest  in 
the  heart  beneath.  This  is  the  philosophic  principle. 
Parallel  with  this  runs  the  scriptural  principle,  that 
Christ  is  the  true  bridegroom  of  the  soul." 


HTS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  23 

The  practical  working,  and  not  a  little  of  the  nature 
of  the  theory  of  holier  living,  which  interested  Mr. 
James  at  this  time,  is  very  impressively  put  forth  in  a 
letter,  to  an  inquiring  friend,  on  the  benefit  of  trials. 
In  this  he  writes,  — 

"  From  your  talking  of  falling  back  on  '  the  Evi- 
dences,' as  well  as  from  some  other  indications,  I  could 
not  but  have  a  misgiving  that  you  were  finding  almost 
as  much  difficulty  as  ever  with  the  '  conte?zts'  of  Reve- 
lation. 

"  Perfectly  j^ersuaded  as  I  am,  not  only  of  the  genu- 
ineness of  your  faith  in  those  contents,  but  that  I  thor- 
oughly understood  also  the  most  interior  causes  of  its 
weakness,  nothing  restrained  me  from  writing  long 
ago  but  the  impossibility  of  compressing  my  solution 
of  your  difficulties  within  any  reasonable  bounds, 
which  indeed  is  no  tax  upon  me  ;  for  of  all  earthly 
occupations,  there  is  none  which  gives  me  such  pleas- 
ure as  the  endeavor  to  strengthen  the  weak  ;  but  I  have 
feared  you  might  think  it  was  a  tax. 

"  To  relieve  you,  then,  as  much  as  possible  of  all  such 
feelings,  let  me  first  say,  that  an  occasional  letter,  of 
the  kind  I  am  about  to  write  to  you,  is  not  only  neces- 
sary as  satisfying  the  longings  of  friendship,  but  noth- 
ing else  is  so  important  to  keep  up  my  spirit  In  the 
w^ork  with  which  I  am  at  present  mainly  occupied. 

"  I  proceed,  therefore,  at  once  circumferentially  as 
usual,  rather  than  diametrically ;  first,  to  take  an  ob- 
servation for  the  purpose  of  determining  exactly  where 


24  HEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

you  are  in  your  course  heavenward,  and  then,  to  solve 
some  of  the  doubts  and  perplexities  by  w^hich  your 
aspirations  are  checked  and  your  progress  impeded." 

Then  follow  twenty  pages  minutely  noticing  the  dif- 
ficulties in  the  way  of  faith  and  assurance. 

Toward  the  close  he  adds,  — 

"  I  have  said  that  the  spring  of  the  Divine  life  in  the 
soul  is  a  desire  toward  God,  based  originally  upon  a 
sense  of  His  perfection,  but  called  into  immediate  and 
lively  action  by  the  expression  of  His  peculiar  affection 
for  us. 

"  The  measure  of  our  inward  life  will  always  cor- 
respond to  the  degree  in  which  we  are  sensible  of  His 
favor ;  a  sense  of  this,  such  as  we  never  had  before, 
though  it  may  still  be  comparatively  faint,  always 
marks  the  era  of  our  conversion. 

"  It  is  an  intimation,  or  what  is  so  considered,  of 
God's  love  to  us,  which  first  awakens  the  sentiment 
of  love  to  Him.  It  is  then,  that  in  Him  whom  we 
have  hitherto  regarded  only  as  our  judge,  we  begin  to 
recognize  the  love  of  a  Father,  and  in  this  love  we  find 
for  a  time  our  supreme  felicity.  Of  course  how  to 
retain  this  love,  how  to  entitle  ourselves  to  a  fuller 
expression  of  it,  how  this  new-born  happiness  may  be 
enlarged  and  perpetuated,  becomes  the  object  of  our 
chief  solicitude. 

"  We  feel  that  nothing  can  assure  us  of  this  but  a 
life  of  holiness,  meaning  by  this  a  life  in  which  the 
love  of  God  is  perpetually  triumphant  over  the  love  of 


HIS    LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  2$ 

the  world.  But  we  too  often  find,  that,  whilst  con- 
science is  strongly  on  the  side  of  God,  not  without  a 
better  feeling  arising  from  a  sense  of  His  kindness  and 
generosity ;  and  whilst  the  will  under  this  twofold 
pressure  is  making  a  constant  and  often  a  most  earnest 
effort  to  be  faithful,  —  some  of  our  liveliest  affections 
(hope  and  desire)  are  still  so  much  in  the  interest  of 
the  world,  that  little  or  nothing  comes  of  all  our  en- 
deavors. We  make  no  advance ;  we  often  question 
whether  the  heart's  union  with  God,  which  we  hoped 
would  soon  be  perfect,  is  even  begun.  We  become 
despondent  of  our  ability  ever  to  attain  a  life  of  holi- 
ness. 

"  If  we  do  not  yield  wholly  to  the  tempter,  we  wage 
but  a  feeble  conflict ;  our  prayers,  which  ought  to  be 
full  of  confidence,  being  chiefly  confessions  of  shame 
and  deprecations  of  the  Divine  judgment.  Often 
should  I  have  perished  by  the  secret  abandonment  of 
my  hope,  but  for  one  j^i'i^ciple  which  has  always 
saved  me  from  such  a  catastrophe  even  at  the  lowest 
ebb  of  my  aflairs,  and  which  now  revealed,  in  the 
strongest  light  and  in  its  full  meaning,  by  the  horrid 
darkness,  which  was  ever  thickening  around  me,  at 
last  brought  me  a  complete  and  final  deliverance. 

''  It  was  simply  the  principle  oijustificatio7z  by  faith 
alone.)  which  means,  when  fully  understood,  that  God's 
love  is  ahvays  wholly  irrespective  of  our  character,  or 
of  our  love  to  Him.  You  will  readily  see,  that  the  ten- 
dency of  the  principle,  seemingly  so  clear  and  certain, 


26  BEK    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

that  continuance  in  the  love  of  God  could  only  be 
assured  by  a  life  of  holiness,  connected  with  utter 
failure  to  attain  such  a  life,  would  be  to  remit  one 
again  from  grace  to  justice,  from  the  blessed  refuge 
which  had  been  found  in  a  father's  bosom,  to  the 
prison-house  of  the  law. 

"  But  there  was  this  difference  between  my  prison- 
house  experiences  before  and  after  any  true  acquaint- 
ance with  the  gospel.  In  the  former  state,  I  knew  no 
way  of  getting  out.  I  was  a  prisoner  for  life  and  for 
ever.  In  the  latter,  my  faith  in  the  doctrine  always 
let  me  out,  when  matters  came  to  the  worst.  But 
still  I  was  let  out  rather  as  a  reprieved  criminal,  sub- 
ject to  be  remanded  again  by  my  shortcomings,  and 
very  certain  to  be  so  remanded  ;  for  how  to  avoid  these 
shortcomings  and  their  direful  retribution,  I  knew  not. 
I  had  continual  desire,  and  continual  disappointment. 
Now,  to  such  I  aver,  that  the  very  good  which  we 
lose  and  are  ever  losing  in  created  things  may  be 
found  for  ever  in  God. 

"  I  cannot  conceive,  that  any  dread  of  a  hereafter, 
with  the  proffer  of  a  release  from  its  terrors,  or  the 
considerations  which  are  addressed  to  conscience 
merely,  powerful  as  those  considerations  are  to 
awaken  attention,  are  ever  sufficient  to  conquer  the 
love  of  the  world.  Nor  can  I  conceive  that  any  sense 
of  the  Divine  authority  and  perfection,  unaccompanied 
by  a  special  tender  of  His  love  to  us  and  a  j^i'omise  of 
the  mos^  i7iti}nate    a7id  e^ideariiig  personal  fellow- 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  2*J 

ship,  could  do  it.  The  love  of  God  which  repels  all 
rival  affections,  springs  not  primarily  from  a  sense  of 
His  perfection,  however  that  may  command  our 
esteem  and  reverence,  but  from  a  belief  or  sense  of 
His  infinite  affection. 

"  This  was  what  the  gospel  tendered  me  ;  and  for  this 
I  forsook  as  well  as  I  could,  as  far  as  a  feeble  faith 
could  carry  me,  the  pleasures  of  the  world.  But  how 
has  this  promise  been  verified  ?  How  is  it  consistent 
with  this  grievous  experience.'*  Consistent  with  it! 
In  the  light  which  I  have  long  since  acquired,  these 
trials  have  become  the  crowning  proof  of  it.  For 
many  years  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  returning 
as  heartfelt  thanks  for  the  discipline  of  God's  provi- 
dence, as  for  the  love  of  His  promises ;  so  plain  it  is, 
that  I  have  been  saved  by  the  combination. 

"  I  have  long  since  learned  that  continuance  in  the 
love  of  God  is  not  assured  by  a  life  of  holiness,  and 
never  was  intended  to  be.  It  is  assured  by  the  work 
of  Christ  for  zcs^  and  trusting  in  that  work,  or  resting 
upon  it,  one  may  be  just  as  certain  of  his  interest  in 
His  love,  as  if  he  were  already  in  glory ;  '  for  whom- 
soever He  justifies,  them  He  also  glorifies.'  But  what 
is  the  meaning  of  these  trials?  They  are  the  begin- 
ning of  our  glorification  ;  the  essential  means  of  it. 
They  are  the  plucking  up  of  the  weeds  which  hinder 
the  growth  of  the  good  seed.  They  are  the  answer  to 
our  daily  prayers,  '  lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but 
deliver  us  from  evil.'     So  far  from  being  the  expres- 


28  BEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

sion  of  God's  anger  on  account  of  remaining  sin,  they 
express  His  unchanging  purpose  to  make  us  holy. 

"  He  sees  us  in  our  folly  still  cleaving  to  the  world, 
but  yet  with  some  sincere  desire  toward  Him.  He  is 
determined  that  the  desire  shall  not  be  disappointed, 
and  therefore  that  the  folly  shall  be  utterly  purged  out ; 
not  a  particle  of  it  shall  remain.  It  is  sometimes  a 
very  long  work,  but  not  necessarily  so  ;  and  it  is  al- 
ways a  sure  one. 

"  Often,  as  it  became  manifest  that  my  desire  for  some 
temporal  or  spiritual  blessing  was  going  to  be  denied, 
and  denied  entirely,  the  shadows  of  death  compassed 
me  ;  for  an  absolute  denial  seemed  equivalent  to  His 
saying  that  He  had  no  regard  for  me.  He  would  not 
give  me  the  temporal  blessing,  nor  seemingly  any 
thing  spiritual  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  it.  Then 
called  I  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  :  O  Lord  !  I  beseech 
thee  deliver  my  soul.  And  lo  !  what  is  this  change 
that  has  come  over  me  ?  —  not  in  a  moment  nor  in  a 
month,  but  as  the  result  of  all  this  discipline.  In  the 
utter  w^reck  and  ruin  of  worldly  ambition  and  hope,  I 
find  a  joy,  in  comparison  with  which  their  highest 
realization  would  have  been  an  empty^  shadow. 

"  To  a  little  child  the  conduct  of  the  husbandman  in 
putting  his  ploughshare  through  a  field  of  showy  wild 
flowers,  leaving  in  their  place  nothing  but  ugly  fur- 
rows, would  be  any  thing  but  pleasing.  It  would  give 
but  little  relief  to  see  him  throwing  a  small  seed  into 
the  furrows  too  insignificant  to  be  noticed,  and  then 


HIS   LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  29 

burying  it  entirely  out  of  sight,  by  the  rude  operation 
of  the  harrow.  And  yet,  if  the  husbandman  were  his 
father,  and  should  tell  him,  that  out  of  this  destruction 
should  spring  up  in  a  little  while  a  world  of  far  higher 
fertility  and  beauty,  he  might  be  reconciled  for  that 
'  little  while '  by  faith  in  the  paternal  promise. 
Through  me  the  Father  tells  you  that  the  very  thing 
you  desire,  but  glorious  as  to  measure  and  quality 
beyond  any  conception  of  it  you  can  now  form,  will, 
in  a  '  little  while,'  be  yours. 

"  '  Behold  I  come  quickly.' 

"You  will  find  a  marvellous  strictness  of  truth  in 
all  that  He  says.  He  means  very  quickly.  His  com- 
ing seems  slow  to  us  only  because  we  are  children. 
Three  weeks  to  a  child  who  is  expecting  his  good 
things,  at  the  Christmas  holidays,  seems  an  age.  But 
when  they  have  come,  your  only  wonder,  when  you 
consider  their  glory,  will  be,  how  they  could  have 
come  so  soon." 

Nor  did  Mr.  James,  as  has  been  intimated,  in  thus 
magnifying  the  desirableness  and  necessity  of  an  abid- 
ing view  of  God's  love,  for  the  establishment  and 
growth  of  any  trembling  believer,  in  the  Christian  life, 
lose  sight  of  holiness  as  an  attribute  of  the  true  God, 
and  of  the  indispensableness  of  an  awful  sense  of  it  for 
the  proper  construction  and  reception  of  any  system  of 
religious  truth. 

He  believed,  with  Dr.  A.  A.  Hodge,  that  "  holiness 
with  God  is  no  more  optional  than  is  existence.     That 


30 


EEV.    WTLLIAM  JAMES. 


it  stands  to  sin,  as  immutable  hatred  and  vindicatory 
justice.  So  thoroughly  impressed  was  he  that  Jehovah 
was  a  Being  of  inherent  and  absolute  justice,  that  he 
does  not  hesitate  to  w;"ite,  that  "  the  love  to  his  offspring 
in  the  paternal  bosom  is  not  so  strong  as  the  love  of 
truth  and  honor  and  integrity ;  and  that  in  case  of  a 
conflict  between  them,  there  is  an  end  of  the  social 
bond." 

The  letter  in  which  this  statement  appears,  contains 
a  critique  on  Maurice,  in  which  Mr.  James  says : 
"  Notwithstanding  his  show  of  qualities  which,  among 
theologians  are  rare  ;  his  talking  always  to  the  heart, 
and  yet  always  through  the  understanding,  but  par- 
ticularly by  his  most  ingenious,  and  in  some  instances 
successful  efforts  to  harmonize  and  almost  identify  the 
dogmas  of  the  church  w^ith  the  demands  of  our  nature  ; 
to  say  nothing  of  his  powers  as  a  wit  and  thinker,  his 
affluent  yet  simple  diction,  his  masterly  ease,  the  great 
compass  of  his  thoughts,  and  the  fulness  of  his  sym- 
pathy ;  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  unsound,  according  to 
any  Orthodox  standard.  I  look  upon  him  as  a  Chris- 
tian, and  surely  a  most  accomplished  man  ;  a  man, 
however,  of  more  acumen  than  piety,  like  Origen  and 
so  many  other  great  lights,  —  of  more  ambition  than 
of  faith  and  love. 

"  I  think  I  have  a  very  clear  idea  of  the  root  of  all 
his  errors.  The  end  of  all  his  refinement  is  to  vin- 
dicate and  magnify  the  love  of  God.  But  he  does  this 
by  virtually  denying  the  Divine  holiness,  by  shutting 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  31 

his  eyes  to  the  worst  effect  of  sin,  and  that  in  which 
the  evil  nature  specially  appears ;  viz.,  the  wound 
which  it  inflicts  on  God's  moral  sensibilities,  which  is 
the  cause  of  His  wrath  against  it,  a  wrath  which  fills 
the  earth  with  judgments  and  burns  to  the  lowest  hell. 
The  whole  evil  of  sin,  as  Maurice  views  it,  appears  in 
its  natural  (not  judicial)  effect  upon  the  mind  of  the 
sinner ;  its  only  effect  upon  the  mind  of  God  is  to 
excite  His  pity. 

"  Occasionally,  an  expression  may  occur  which  in- 
timates more,  but  it  is  meant  evidently  to  conciliate 
Orthodoxy,  and  in  any  deep  sense  is  repudiated  by  his 
system.  I  cannot  learn  from  him,  that  God  hates  sin 
with  a  perfect  hatred.  It  grieves  him  as  the  trans- 
gression of  a  child  grieves  a  parent,  but  it  does  not 
provoke  Him  to  threaten  it  in  good  earnest  with  ever- 
lasting punishment.  On  the  contrary,  the  o?zly  effect 
of  sin  upon  God,  as  far  as  I  can  learn  from  Maurice, 
is  to  bring  out  in  all  its  intensity  His  love  to  man. 
Love,  according  to  Maurice,  is  comprehensive  of 
holiness.  They  cannot  be  distinguished.  The  very 
holiness  of  God,  therefore,  obliges  Him  to  save  man 
from  the  effects  of  sin.  That  the  result  of  his  system 
is  a  refined  universalism,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  In 
his  last  essay  he  is  forced  to  confess  it.  For  what  else 
can  he  mean  by  the  paragraph  on  page  360  ? 

"  My  grand  objection  to  his  system  is,  that  by  di- 
vesting sin  of  its  worst  aspect,  he  robs  the  love  of 
God  of  its  highest  and  its  most  peculiar  manifestation. 


32  EEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

If  I  did  not  believe  that  the  holiness  of  God  was  some- 
thing which  could  be  distinguished  from  His  love  ; 
something,  in  virtue  of  which  He  hated  sin,  and  was 
bent  upon  its  punishment,  and  with  the  same  intense 
sincerity  with  which  in  virtue  of  the  other  he  pities 
the  sinner,  and  is  bent  upon  his  deliverance,  it  seems 
to  me  that  neither  my  misery  as  a  subject  of  wrath, 
nor  God's  love  in  giving  His  Son,  nor  Christ's  agony 
to  save  me,  would  have  the  same  effect  upon  my  heart 
and  conscience  which  they  have  now.  You  will  ob- 
serve that  Maurice  has  no  conception  of  any  relation 
between  God  and  man,  but  that  of  Father  and  child. 
Nor  do  men  —  whilst  they  are  sinning,  and  intending 
to  sin  —  look  upon  God  as  their  Father. 

"  But  suppose,  to  give  the  greater  force  to  our  view, 
that  God  zs  their  Father.  Is  He  nothing  but  a  Father.? 
Does  not  every  child  know  that  the  parent  is  also  a  man  ? 
and  that,  as  such,  he  is  governed  by  other  affections 
besides  love  to  his  offspring.?  that  behind  that  love 
which  beams  in  the  paternal  face,  there  are  other 
qualities  calculated  to  awaken  fear?  that  love  to  his 
offspring,  however  strong  in  the  paternal  bosom,  is  not 
strong  enough  to  set  aside  the  love  of  truth,  of  honor, 
and  of  integrity  ;  and  that,  in  case  of  a  conflict  between 
the  social  bond  and  the  bond  of  moral  principle,  the 
love  is  supplanted  by  the  workings  of  the  moral  na- 
ture ?  " 

With  such  a  view  of  the  Divine  perfections ;  with 
his  singularly  active  and  sensitive  conscience,  so  ready 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  33 

to  reflect  the  justice  of  Jehovah ;  with  a  mind  deeply 
lacerated  at  any  want  of  conformity  to  the  Law  of 
God  ;  and  with  a  vigorous  imagination,  always  mag- 
nifying his  own  defects,  it  is  not  strange  that  Mr. 
James  held,  and  with  all  his  might,  to  the  righteousness 
of  Christ  as  the  ground  of  his  acceptance  with  the 
Father ;  nor  that  he  should  have  expressed  his  belief 
in  it,  with  strong  confidence  and  joy,  and  taken  pains 
to  show  its  connection  with  those  attainments  in  holi- 
ness after  which  he  aspired.  So  many  are  the  letters 
which  he  has  written,  so  varied  the  utterances  which 
he  has  made,  on  this  point,  that  it  is  difficult  to  select 
from  them. 

"  I  have  been  convinced  from  the  Scriptures,  that, 
just  as  certainly  as  it  is  God's  will  that  we  should  be 
holy  and  glorify  Him  in  our  lives,  it  is  His  will  also 
that  we  first  believe  in  His  Son,  of  which  the  main, 
and  almost  the  engrossing  idea,  is  —  to  express  it  in  the 
language  of  Edwards  —  that  we  should  '  hide  ourselves 
in  the  ample  folds  of  the  robe  of  His  righteousness,' " 
he  writes,  in  1853;  and  adds,  "The  principle  which 
gives  life  to  the  soul,  is,  that  we  are  justified  by  a 
work  %vrotig7it  wholly  out  of  ourselves ;  and  gradually 
sanctified  by  trusting  it  as  such,  —  by  holding  fast  for 
ever  that  idea.  This  is  the  Pauline  doctrine.  And 
Olshausen's  peculiar  merit  is,  that  he  maintains  it  with 
more  learning  and  skill  and  boldness  than  any  other 
equally  profound  expositor.  He  has  not  more  learning 
than  Tholuck.  But  he  has  more  genius,  and,  aj)par- 
3 


34  liEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

ently,  a  stronger  experience  ;  although,  in  this  respect, 
Tholuck  is  not  defective.  I  must  say,  that  Neander  on 
John  disappoints  me.  He  is  a  great  historian,  a  won- 
derful philosophizer  of  history  ;  but,  of  the  milk  of  the 
Word,  he  is  rather  a  diluter."  Then  he  adds,  "  Let  me 
quote  from  Olshausen  on  Romans,  iv.  3-5  :  '  If  faith 
turns  away  from  its  proper  object,  the  Christ  without  us, 
and  the  objective  purpose  of  God  in  man's  redemp- 
tion, and  directs  itself  to  the  Christ  within  us,  as  the 
ground,  not  the  consequence,  of  redemption  ;  and  if 
the  man  only  considers  himself  the  object  of  the  Divine 
favor,  because  he  discovers  Christ  in  himself,  and  only 
as  long  as  this  is  the  case,  then  faith  altogether  loses 
its  proper  nature,  and  the  man  falls  again  under  the 
Law.' " 

After  carefully  commenting  upon  each  chapter  of 
an  elaborate  work  recently  published  upon  the  sacri- 
fice of  Christ,  Mr.  James  writes :  "  Upon  my  mind 
the  fact  of  an  Atonement,  in  the  orthodox  sense  of  a 
satisfaction  to  Justice,  is  fixed  more  firmly  than  ever." 
"  Christ  suffered  for  us  in  a  sense  in  which  the  other 
persons  of  the  Trinity  did  not.  But  for  the  really 
vicarious  sufferings  of  the  Son  restoring  our  filial  rela- 
tions, we  should  never  have  had  their  sympathy  at  all, 
but  only  their  antagonism.  Apart  from  this,  their  sym- 
pathy had  been  wholly  with  the  Law,  not  with  its  viola- 
tors. Christ's  sufferings  were  undertaken  and  endured 
to  redeem  us  from  this  antagonism,  to  which  the  purity 
of  the  Divine  nature,  its  sense  of  wrong,  its  necessary 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  35 

s^^mpathy  with  the  Law,  in  a  word,  had  otherwise  con- 
signed us.  His  suffering  was  really  vicarious  ;  theirs, 
anterior  to  His,  only  such,  at  the  most,  as  the  judge, 
who  is  also  a  man,  feels  for  the  prisoner  at  his  bar. 

"  The  Second  Person  of  the  Trinity  undertakes  to 
save  both  the  Law  and  its  victim,  by  placing  himself 
under  the  Law  as  a  substitute  for  the  guilty.  The 
Father,  loving  the  world,  accepted  the  proffered  media- 
tion. He  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  —  spared 
not  —  His  own  Son,  but  gave  Him  to  be  a  propitiation 
for  our  sins."  Mr.  James  declares  that  the  root  of  the 
error  of  the  writer  whom  he  was  criticising,  lies  in 
this,  "  He  conceives  of  God  as  though  He  were  nothing 
more  than  an  Infinite  man  ;"  and  adds,  "With  me  the 
study  of  years  has  been  to  mediate  between  love  and 
justice,  both  of  them  essential  elements  of  the  Divine 
Righteousness ;  and,  seeing  a  new  matter  here  pro- 
posed, I  was  tempted  to  accept  it  at  once,  without 
allowing  my  critical,  or  even  my  logical,  forces  to 
come  into  action,  and  so  I  allowed  it  for  a  time  to 
run  away  with  me,  and  thought,  until  this  second 
revision,  that  I  had  found  the  treasure  hid  in  the  field. 
But  it  appears,  according  to  this  book,  that  justice,  or 
the  principle  which  necessitates  penalty  for  the  viola- 
tion of  Law,  is  not  included  in  God's  essential  right- 
eousness. It  is  simply  a  matter  of  policy ;  and  thus 
the  absolute  ill-desert  of  sin,  a  fiction  ;  and  conscience, 
a  provisional  faculty  for  giving  this  fiction  temporarily 
the  force  of  a  reality." 


36  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

Thus  we  learn  the  doctrinal  basis  of  those  letters  on 
progress  in  holiness,  on  the  way  to  get  rid  of  disturb- 
ing doubts,  and  to  triumph  over  easily  besetting  sins, 
which  Mr.  James  was  always  writing  to  any  mind 
whom  he  thought  would  receive  his  counsels,  and  be 
benefited  by  his  correspondence.  It  is  marvellous 
with  what  industry,  cheerfulness,  persistence,  and 
fidelity,  he  gave  himself  to  this  work.  The  labors  of 
men  on  their  sermons,  and  in  their  parishes,  were  light 
compared  with  the  epistolary  toils  he  voluntarily  im- 
posed upon  himself,  and  with  delight  carried  on  year 
after  year,  through  nearly  a  whole  life-time. 

A  most  interesting  and  remarkable  volume  could  be 
made  from  his  letters  to  souls  inquiring  after  peace  ; 
and  another,  from  words,  addressed  to  those  thirsting 
for  a  more  entire  conformity  to  the  Divine  Will  than 
their  vagrant  affections  had  permitted  them  to  reach. 
Each  of  these  would  be  a  model  in  literature,  and  a 
cardiphonia  in  religion.  And  not  less  valuable  and 
voluminous  treatises  could  be  compiled  from  his  criti- 
cisms on  authors,  especially  on  those  who  attempted  to 
reconcile  the  ways  of  God  with  reason,  equity,  and  the 
wants  of  humanity.  The  explication  (as  he  terms  it) 
of  John,  xiv.  21-23,  furnishes  a  specimen  of  his  ej^is- 
tolary  exegesis.  I  wish  it  were  possible,  within  the 
limits  intended,  to  insert,  at  this  place,  one  of  his  let- 
ters, in  which  he  gives  his  views  of  the  position  which 
love  should  hold  as  compared  with  justice,  in  the  direc- 
tions to  be  given  to  any  one  suffering,  without  allevia- 


HIS  LIFE  AND   CHARACTER.  37 

tion,  under  the  condemnation  of  the  Law ;  and 
another,  showing  how  "  Faith  is  the  germ  of  the  new 
man  coming  to  the  birth  ;  which  7zew  man,  created  in 
regeneration,  is  absolutely  pure." 

"  Therefore,"  he  adds,  as  Olshausen  says,  "  salvation 
is  not  to  be  considered  as  depending  upon  the  devel- 
opment of  the  Christ  in  us,  but  only  our  degree  of 
glorification.  Therefore  may  the  believer,  however 
backward  his  development,  of  which  he  is  abundantly 
conscious,  look  toward  death  w^ithout  anxiety  for  his 
salvation.  The  Christian  has,  neither  before  nor  after 
his  conversion,  to  generate  an  independent  sanctifica- 
tion  of  his  own  ;  but  he  has  only  constantly  to  receive 
the  stream  of  the  influential  powers  of  Christ's  life 
upon  him :  just  as  the  tree,  when  the  development  of 
its  germ  is  begun,  has  only  to  suck  in  water,  air,  and 
light,  in  order  to  unfold  itself  from  within  ;  and  all  the 
drawing  of  a  stupid  gardener  at  the  branches,  all  his 
working  at  the  buds  to  coax  forth  blossoms,  can  only 
disturb,  but  never  further,  its  development." 

What  a  treasure,  the  deep,  earnest,  prolonged,  ten- 
derly appreciating  sympathy,  and  the  knowledge 
pressed  forth  by  it  in  those  letters,  would  be,  to  those 
desiring  to  see  more  of  Mr.  James,  and  to  know  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Christ,  and  in  a  gifted  sei"\\int  of  God 
who  struggled  so  to  put  Christ  on.  Nor  would  they 
be  any  less  so,  because  he  constantly  depreciated  his 
own  attainments.  He  ever  illustrated  what  Trench 
says : — 


38  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

"  Only  when  we  love,  we  find 
How  far  our  heart  has  come  behind 
The  love  we  ought  to  show." 

But  there  is  so  much  that  is  personal  in  these  commu- 
nications, such  frank  statements  of  his  own  sorrows 
and  defeats  (by  detailing  which,  as  well  as  by  opening 
up  the  path  and  steps  of  his  deliverance,  he  sought  to 
encourage  others),  that  we  hesitate  to  lay  their  con- 
tents, unabridged,  before  any  human  eyes,  save  those 
for  whom  the  lines  were  prodigally  and  accurately 
penned.  And  yet  how  can  any  one  obtain  a  proper 
imjDression  of  the  man,  or  of  his  doctrine,  apart  from 
a  glimpse,  at  least,  of  his  correspondence?  Its  first 
sentence  reveals  the  object  of  the  following  extract 
from  one  of  his  letters : 

"  Remember  that  your  greatest  difficulty  will  always 
arise,  as  it  always  has  arisen,  from  legality;  not  from 
any  want  of  earnestness,  but  from  the  idea  that  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  earnestness  is  necessary  before  you  can 
feel  the  embrace  of  Christ's  love,  or  before,  at  least, 
you  can  appropriate  His  fulness.  The  whole  subject 
has  two  sides,  and  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  put  forth 
one  as  strongly  as  it  ought  to  be,  without  seeming  to 
contravene  the  other ;  and  yet  they  are  perfectly  har- 
monious. Let  me  show  you  how  they  became  one,  in 
my  own  case.  For  a  long  time  I  was  in  precisely  the 
condition  which,  in  my  last  letter,  I  assumed  to  be 
yours ;  conscious  of  a  state  in  which  worldly  and 
spiritual   affections   were    perpetually  contending,  the 


HIS  LIFE  AND   CHARACTER. 


39 


former  sustained  by  deeply  rooted  and  long-matured 
habit,  constantly  acted  on  by  outward  temptations  ;  the 
latter,  by  a  very  little  precious  experience,  and  by  the 
promise  that,  with  perseverance  in  prayer,  they  should 
prevail  at  last.  At  any  time  I  vs^ould  have  been  most 
willing  to  terminate  the  conflict  by  giving  up  the 
w^orld,  if  I  knew  how  to  do  it,  —  how  to  get  it  out  of 
my  heart.  The  things  which  I  would,  I  did  not ;  and 
the  things  which  I  hated,  those  I  did.  I  felt  myself  a 
miserable  captive,  sold  under  sin.  I  saw  no  way  of 
deliverance,  but  by  some  Divine  manifestation  which 
would  completely  win  my  affections  ;  and,  for  this,  I 
was  always  sighing  and  praying.  But  I  had  the  idea, 
also,  that  this  manifestation  was  in  some  way  condi- 
tional upon  some  act  of  my  own  will,  —  upon  an  entire 
self-surrender.  How  often  and  long  have  I  labored 
to  do  that  thing,  hoping  that  the  happy  hour  was  not 
distant  when  I  should  do  it  so  thoroughly  that  God 
would  withhold  Himself  no  longer,  and  then  I  should 
be  free  !  But  that  hour  never  came.  I  never  became 
conscious  of  surrendering  all  to  God,  until  some  time 
after  I  had  become  perfectly  assured  that  God  had 
freely  given  Himself  to  me.  But  understand  what  I 
mean  by  this.  I  do  not  mean  until  God  had  revealed 
Himself  to  me  in  a  personal  manner,  but  until  I  had 
become  practically  convinced  and  settled  in  the  doc- 
trine that  the  love  of  God  was  a  fountain  for  human- 
ity ;  free,  in  all  its  fulness,  to  every  one  who  desired 
it ;  that  nothing  at  all  was  required  to  make  it  mine  ; 


40  HEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

that  it  was  mine  now,  in  virtue  of  what  Christ  had 
done  for  me,  —  to  which  nothing  could  be  added  by 
any  self-surrender,  or  any  act  of  mine  whatever. 
This  was  the  doctrine  which,  as  I  have  told  you, 
brought  me  out  of  my  first  bondage  ;  and  every  step 
which  I  have  taken  since  toward  a  higher  freedom, 
has  been  imiDclled  by  a  fresh  sense  of  it  coming  to  me, 
for  the  most  part,  not  when  most  conscious  of  fidelity 
to  Him,  but  when  most  conscious  of  incurable  faith- 
lessness. The  utter  failure  of  all  my  own  efforts  to  do 
any  thing  for  my  own  cure,  and  the  repeated  experi- 
ence of  God's  forgiving  mercy  and  tender  interest  in 
me  notwithstanding,  have,  at  length,  broken  the  power 
of  legality  entirely.  I  see  plainly  that  I  shall  be  saved 
in  spite  of  myself.  I  no  longer  try  to  prepare  myself 
for  a  Divine  blessing  or  manifestation,  by  any  acts  of 
self-denying  devotion,  because  I  feel  that  God's  free 
loving-kindness  makes  them  entirely  unnecessary.  But 
what  is  the  effect  of  this  view  of  the  freeness  of  salva- 
tion.? It  compels  me  to  do,  as  a  matter  of  delight, 
what  I  never  could  do  as  a  matter  of  duty.  I  surren- 
der all  to  God,  as  naturally  as  I  breathe  ;  not  as  a 
condition  of  receiving  something  from  Him,  for  in 
Christ  and  with  Christ  I  am  now  persuaded  He  has 
given  me  every  thing ;  and,  among  other  things,  I  sur- 
render, also,  this  long  desire  for  a  personal  manifesta- 
tion, which  I  perceive  has  been  selfish  in  its  sj^ring.  I 
want  such  a  manifestation,  indeed,  but  I  want  it  now 
entirely  for  His  sake  ;    because  it  will  enable   me  to 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  41 

serve  Him  better.  In  this  view  I  labor  for  it  con- 
stantly ;  perfectly  submissive,  however,  while  it  is 
withheld ;  rejoicing  to  serve  Him  by  contending  with 
obstructions  ;  always  assured  of  His  love,  not  on  the 
ground  of  any  personal  communication,  but  of  His 
general  word  to  humanity,  of  which  experience  has 
made  me  a  believer.  It  is  just  in  this  way  that  you 
will  receive  all  that  you  are  expecting :  by  giving  God 
glory  for  what  you  have  received  in  common  with  the 
race  ;  by  getting  into  the  habit  of  assuming  that  what 
you  are  seeking,  viz.,  God's  love,  in  all  its  fulness,  is 
already  yours.  Sin  and  the  world  are  already  con- 
quered as  far  as  that  persuasion  is  rooted  in  you  ;  what 
remains  of  their  power  shall  be  entirely  destroyed,  by 
your  holding  it  fast  in  all  trials.  This  is  the  only  act 
of  will  to  which  I  would  now  encourage  you.  In  a 
little  while  God's  glory  will  be  a  constant,  loving  man- 
ifestation." 

Perhaps  I  might  insert  a  portion  of  another,  written 
to  one  importunately  desiring  some  personal  manifes- 
tation of  Christ  to  the  soul,  — 

..."  What  makes  our  life  a  bondage  is,  that 
the  element  of  faith  in  the  Saviour  which  is  mixed 
with  it,  is  so  little.  It  saddens  us  chiefly  to  think  what 
a  dishonor  such  a  life  is  to  the  Divine  goodness,  to 
the  provisions  of  the  gospel,  to  the  self-sacrificing 
love  and  condescension  and  faithfulness  of  the  Good 
Shepherd.  Why  should  we  be  so  anxious  and  un- 
settled and  distrustful  and  joyless  when  such  a  Friend 


42 


REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 


has  died  for  us,  lives  for  us,  and  is  ever,  if  there  is 
any  truth  in  the  gospel,  engaged  to  give  efficacy  to 
our  prayers,  and  reality  to  our  hopes  ?  How  can  we 
be  so  heartless,  when  wooed  by  such  importunity  of 
self-devoting  love?  It  is  found  in  experience,  that  a 
little  ingenuous  confidence  is  not  enough  to  break  our 
bondage  ;  but  a  little  added  to  that,  and  a  little  more 
to  that,  will  at  last  do  it.  Suppose  Christ  should 
reveal  Himself  personally  to  you,  and  should  say  to 
you,  '  My  Httle  one  '  (the  name,  you  know,  which  He 
gives  to  the  least  and  weakest  of  His  people),  '  My  lit- 
tle one,  so  unlovely  and  unworthy  in  your  own  eye,  you 
are  most  j^recious  in  mine.  I  love  you  with  a  love 
which  has  no  dependence  upon  your  character,  but 
rather  has  been  excited  by  your  utter  helplessness,  your 
poverty,  your  meanness,  your  weakness,  your  troubles 
and  dangers,  your  bondage  and  misery,  of  which  you 
are  so  sensible :  these  are  your  recommendations ; 
these  are  your  claims  upon  my  sympathy  ;  these  are 
the  bonds  by  which  you  will  for  ever  hold  me.  Hence- 
forth you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  give  me  your  con- 
fidence. And  that  I  ask,  not  because  any  deficiency 
in  it  will  turn  my  heart  away  from  you,  but  only  for 
your  own  sake.  I  want  "  your  joy  to  be  full."  My 
love  is  free  and  pure  and  disinterested.  It  cannot  be 
changed,  but  only  be  made  more  resolute,  by  your 
infirmities  and  dangers ;  though,  to  your  own  con- 
sciousness, —  until  your  faith  is  recovered,  —  it  must, 
of  course,  always  appear  otherwise.     But  your  salva- 


EIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER. 


43 


tion  cannot  fail.  My  honor  is  engaged  for  it.  1  have 
betrothed  you  to  myself  for  ever,  and  there  is  nothing 
which  my  love  can  do  for  you,  for  w^hich  you  may  not 
at  once  command  it.  Begin  the  trial  of  it  immediately, 
cast  all  your  care  upon  me,  and,  w^hen  the  enemy  ap- 
pears, let  it  be  a  powerful  worldly  affection,  a  strong 
inducement  to  rest  in  the  creature,  instead  of  going  on 
to  seek  your  rest  and  happiness  in  me  ;  or,  let  it  be  a 
sense  of  coldness,  and  a  want  of  confidence,  which 
you  think  must  provoke  my  displeasure,  —  let  it  take 
what  form  it  may,  just  come  to  me,  and,  if  you  cannot 
speak  for  your  confusion,  just  say,  in  sobs  and  sighs, 
O  my  Jesus,  my  Jesus,  my  Jesus!  Thou  seest  my  mis- 
ery, Thou  knowest  I  cannot  conquer  this  temptation, 

—  yet  Thou  knowest,  too,  how  I  desire  to  conquer  it, 

—  and  Thou  hast  told  me  never  to  doubt  either  Thy 
power  or  Thy  love.  Allured  by  Thy  promises  of  cer- 
tain victory  in  every  conflict,  I  have  cast  away  my  own 
strength,  and  now  trust  entirely  in  Thine.  And  wilt 
Thou  deceive  me  }  never,  never  !  Though  Thou  slay 
me,  I  will  trust  Thee  ! ' 

"  You  tell  me,  perhaps,  that  Christ  has  not  yet  re- 
vealed Himself  to  you  in  the  manner  described.  Let 
it  be  so.  But  has  He  not  thus  revealed  Himself  to 
humanity,  to  our  nature.?  Is  not  this  the  exact 
significance  of  the  Gospel  Revelation,  taking  it  as  a 
whole  }  Is  not  this  just  what  is  meant  by  the  height 
and  depth,  'the  length  and  breadth,  of  the  love  of 
Christ,  which  passeth   knowledge.?     And   is   He   not 


44 


EEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 


thus  revealed  generally,  in  order  that  any  one  who 
will,  any  one  who  is  athirst  for  such  a  Saviour,  and 
such  a  salvation,  may  make  a  personal  appropriation 
of  Him,  and  of  it?  and  just  as  minute  and  particular 
an  appropriation  as  he  pleases  to  make,  —  too  particu- 
lar it  cannot  be.  The  true  and  only  foundation  of  con- 
fidence in  Christ  is  the  record  which  is  given  in  the 
Scriptures  of  His  life  and  character,  of  His  relations 
to  God,  and  His  relations  to  humanity  ;  and  the  motive 
to  confidence,  —  to  a  personal  appropriating  faith,  is  the 
desire  of  the  soul  for  just  such  a  Saviour,  and  such  a 
salvation,  —  its  deep  and  everlasting  wants,  which  only 
such  a  salvation  and  such  a  Saviour  can  relieve.  It  is 
certainly  true,  that  the  faith  inspired  by  the  general 
revelation  is  infinitely  vivified  by  the  personal.  But 
still  the  general  revelation  is  the  foundation ;  and  it  is 
only  by  venturing,  by  suspending  the  whole  weight  of 
the  soul's  cares,  desires,  and  hopes  on  that  revelation, 
and  in  proportion  as  we  do  so,  that  we  can  reach  any 
thing  special  and  personal.  Do  you  not  see  that  a 
confidence,  produced  by  a  particular  revelation  of  His 
afiection  for  you,  would  be  a  very  poor  act  on  your  part, 
a  very  poor  test  of  the  state  of  your  heart  toward  Him  ? 
"Desire  tl\e  personal  expression  as  strongly  as  you 
please,  thirst  for  it  as  the  water  of  Life,  for  it  is  so  ; 
and  be  perfectly  sure  you  shall  obtain  it.  Only  remem- 
ber that  the  way  to  it,  to  its  first,  and  to  every  other, 
degree  of  it,  is  by  faith  in  the  yet  unseen.  Rejoice 
that  your  dear  Lord  gives  you  the  opportunity  of  show- 


EIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER. 


45 


ing  how  much  you  can  trust  Him.  Say  to  Him  boldly, 
I  am  now  so  certain  of  Thy  free  and  unmeasurable  love, 
that  I  will  henceforth  ask  for  no  expression  from  Thee 
but  what  is  necessary  to  Thine  own  glory ;  but  this  I 
must  have.  I  must  sen^e  Thee.  Thou  only  art  worthy  ! 
Whatever  is  necessary  to  break  in  pieces  this  selfish 
heart,  and  to  create  an  entirely  new  heart  within  me, 
—  a  heart  in  w^hich  Thou  shalt  entirely  reign,  —  that  is 
all  I  want.  If  it  is  necessary  for  a  farther  discovery 
of  the  root  of  evil  in  me,  that  Thou  shouldst  withhold  a 
little  longer  the  tokens  of  Thy  special  regard,  behold 
my  submission.  Only  let  me  have  the  privilege  of 
calling  Thee  mine,  until  such  time  as  Thou  pleasest 
to  give  my  hand,  now  outstretched  in  darkness,  that 
firm  grasp  which  shall  make  it  sure  for  ever." 

To  more  than  one  individual  did  Mr.  James  write 
an  hundred  such  letters.  Indeed,  he  has  scarcely  an 
acquaintance  that  is  not  in  possession  of  many.  From 
no  painstaking  did  he  shrink,  could  he  only  thus  lift 
the  burden  from  a  suffering  soul.  Never  did  they  that 
watch  for  the  morning,  wait  for  the  breaking  of  the 
day  with  half  the  anxiety  that  he  did  to  see  the  shad- 
ows flee  away  from  a  clouded  mind.  And  how  he 
rejoiced  when  his  hope  was  not  disappointed  !  "  The 
note  of  victorious  faith  which  rings  in  your  later  let- 
ters, is  more  to  me  than  the  success  of  Solferino. 
Your  freedom  comes  nearer  home  to  me  than  the  free- 
dom of  Italy,  much  as  I  desire  the  latter,"  are  his 
words. 


46  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

What  teacher  ever  strove  harder  to  instruct?  What 
minister  to  comfort  or  build  up  ?  Why  should  he  not 
select  his  own  channels  of  industry  in  the  vineyard 
where  such  a  variety  of  husbandry  was  needed  ?  Why 
should  he  chide  himself  for  not  assuming  the  mechani- 
cal toils  of  a  parish,  when  he  was  ever  lavishly  ex- 
pending his  strength  in  the  pulpits  of  his  brethren, 
that  they  might  recover  theirs?  From  no  desire  to 
throw  off  responsibility,  or  to  rid  himself  of  the  obli- 
gations \vhich  belong  to  the  sacred  office,  was  he  with- 
out a  charge.  His  door-plate,  on  \vhich  was  inscribed 
"  Rev.  William  James,"  bears  witness  to  this.  When 
asked,  "  Why  did  you  have  the  '  Reverend '  engraved 
there  ? "  he  replied,  "  I  was  determined  that  people 
should  know  that  I  had  not  withdrawn  myself  from 
any  duty  imposed  by  my  ordination." 

At  another  time,  when  wounded  by  a  remark  upon 
his  recluse  and  studious  habits,  he  wrote  :  "  How  often 
have  people  said  to  me,  '  If  you  had  only  been  a  poor 
man,  and  compelled  to  work ' !  Compelled  to  work, 
indeed  !  The  only  effect  of  poverty  would  have  been 
to  make  me  work  for  a  lower  object,  and  to  contract 
the  universality  and  destroy  the  ideality  of  my  nature. 
Do  not  let  poverty,  or  the  prospect  of  it,  have  any  such 
effect  upon  you.  I  did  not  need  the  stimulus  of  pov- 
erty ;  a  far  stronger  stimulus  was  the  disgrace  which 
is  attached,  in  this  age  and  country,  to  a  recluse  or 
unofficial  life.  For  this  I  have  suffered  (for  the  sake 
of  humanity)  a  conscious  martyrdom  for  many  years, 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  47 

to  retain  my  own  manhood  ;  and  thus  the  power  of 
sei'ving  humanity,  whether  ever  called  into  action  or 
not.  How  God  has  sustained  me,  has  been  a  perfect 
wonder  to  me.  I  have  been,  in  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist,  '  a  wonder  unto  many,'  but  also  a  wonder 
to  myself.  But  God  is  my  strong  refuge.  Let  my 
mouth  be  filled  with  Thy  praise  and  Thy  honor  all  the 
day.  Cast  me  not  off  in  my  old  age  ;  forsake  me  not 
when  my  strength  faileth.  As  the  result  of  this  endur- 
ing loyalty  to  ideas,  I  am  now  on  the  verge  of  failing 
years,  and,  possibly,  very  near  my  end.  But  I  am  in 
possession  of  a  faith,  a  hope,  and  a  charity,  which  are 
more  than  a  compensation  for  all  the  struggle  and  the 
sacrifice.  Let  me,  then,  entreat  you  to  be  of  good 
courage.  You  may  have  to  endure  much  worldly  dis- 
appointment. Till  you  become  indurated,  you  will 
have  to  endure  it ;  but  the  reward  is  certain." 

And  these  words  came  from  a  brain  and  heart  that 
(as  he  once  said)  did  more  work  in  a  year  than  some 
of  those  who  are  lashed  to  work  by  the  thong  of  pov- 
erty have  done  in  a  lifetime. 

His  pulpit  labors  alone  were  enough  to  consume  the 
vigor  and  time  of  most  men.  He  never  hesitated  to 
preach  for  weeks  and  weeks,  for  churches  or  minis- 
terial brethren,  whose  burdens  were  heavy.  And  how 
did  he  preach  ?  With  the  truth  so  deeply  planted  not 
only  in  his  intellect,  but  in  his  sensibilities,  it  was  to 
be  expected  that  Mr.  James  would  be  an  impressive 
preacher.     But  when  it  is  remembered,  that  his  voice 


48  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

was  like  an  organ  for  depth  and  compass,  and  also 
resonant  with  feeling ;  and  his  mode  of  composition 
such  that  each  separate  sentence  was  full  of  meaning, 
and  closely  related  to  that  which  went  before  and  fol- 
lowed it,  —  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  reminded  many 
of  Robert  Hall,  in  his  purity  of  diction,  and  in  the 
emphasis  of  his  utterance.  He  organized  his  thoughts 
slowly  and  with  great  deliberation  ;  hence,  when  they 
were  delivered  on  the  paper  or  from  the  pulpit,  they 
were  almost  perfect  in  their  vesture  and  form.  He 
was  accustomed  to  read  and  meditate  much  before  he 
wrote  ;  so  that  his  manuscripts  contained  the  invin- 
cible judgments  of  his  soul.  And  his  style  of  speech 
manifested  this.  In  conversation  it  was  often  rapid 
and  enthusiastic.  From  the  pulpit  it  was  more  meas- 
ured. There  he  spake  "  as  one  having  authority." 
His  idea  of  the  care  in  preparation  demanded  of  one 
who  would  attempt,  by  interpreting  the  word  of  God, 
to  guide  the  souls  of  men,  was  expressed  somewhat  by 
him,  when  to  a  friend  he  said  "  If  I  take  a  text  from 
the  inspired  volume,  and  do  not,  to  the  utmost  extent 
of  my  capacity  and  powers,  fathom  and  exhaust  its 
meaning,  I  feel  that  I  am  a  doomed  man."  Hence, 
great  solemnity,  and  manifest  exercise  of  the  reflective 
faculties,  characterized  his  sermons.  I  refer  more  par- 
ticularly to  those  on  "  God  a  Sun  ; "  on  the  text,  "  If 
any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink  ;  " 
the  series  on  the  Atonement,  and  a  single  sermon  on 
Faith.     The  wonder  was,  that  in  the   discussion  of 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER. 


49 


such  themes,  in  his  exhaustive  manner,  he  should 
have  made  every  one  of  his  hearers  feel  as  he  did, 
whether  they  understood  him  or  not,  that  the  fire  of 
intense  convictions,  relating  to  the  life  or  death  of  the 
soul,  burned  in  the  breast  of  him  who  was  giving  his 
thoughts  to  them. 

Remarkable,  however,  as  were  his  sermons,  they 
were  excelled  by  his  devotional  exercises.  They  moved 
the  heart  to  tears ;  they  rekindled  its  hope.  No  one 
can  forget  the  impression  made  by  them.  The  mind 
that  in  preaching,  and  in  conversation,  and  in  medi- 
tation, opened  so  readily  to  the  being  and  perfections 
•of  God,  seemed  in  prayer  to  be  lifted  into  His  actual 
presence.  Absolved  from  the  ordinary  conditions  of 
thought,  yet  never  violating  them,  Mr.  James  appeared 
to  absorb  the  affection  of  the  Creator,  and  to  gain  a 
vision  of  the  ineffable  glory  as  he  approached  the 
throne  of  the  heavenly  grace.  Yet  in  that  august 
pavilion  his  tones  were  not  those  of  a  stranger,  but 
rather  those  of  one  to  whom  the  Lord  had  been  and 
would  be  a  dwelling-place  in  all  generations.  What 
tenderness,  what  faith,  what  adoration  were  there ! 
what  a  hiding  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty, 
what  communion  of  the  finite  with  the  Infinite,  what 
earnestness  of  intercession,  what  a  venturing  upon  the 
promises  !  Then  it  was  that  "  he  endured  as  seeing 
One  who  is  invisible  ;  and  talked  with  God,  as  a  man 
talketh  with  his  friend."  A  judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Massachusetts,   who   frequently   heard    him 

4 


50  BEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

preach,  remarked,  "  I  should  be  amply  repaid  for 
coming  to  church  when  he  is  in  the  pulpit,  could  I 
hear  only  the  Invocation." 

Many  may  desire  to  know  more  about  the  natural 
stock,  the  early  associations,  the  instinctive  impulses, 
the  human  traits  of  one  w^io  could  thus  live  and 
write  and  preach  and  pray.  His  blood  was  a  mixt- 
ure of  Irish  and  Dutch ;  Irish  on  the  father's  side,  and 
Dutch  on  the  mother's.  He  carried  in  himself  the 
fire  and  sensibility  of  the  one  nation,  with  the  depth 
and  power  of  endurance  in  the  other :  an  extraordi- 
nary and  splendid  combination.  Withal,  he  had  a 
most  vigorous  physical  constitution,  a  fine  head,  a 
glowing,  warm,  discerning,  and  expressive  eye,  a  high 
and  expansive  forehead,  a  movement  indicative  of 
power  and  good  breeding ;  and  a  presence  that  by  its 
elevation,  frankness,  and  fearlessness,  w^ould  vitalize  an 
assembly  before  he  spoke  a  word.  The  streets,  the 
churches,  knew  w^ien  he  was  in  them,  by  the  waves 
of  grand  impulse  he  kindled  through  his  unconscious 
motions  and  look.  As  was  said  by  one  of  his  friends, 
"  the  cars  were  illuminated  when  he  entered  them." 
He  was  not  self-conserving ;  he  sought  not  his  own 
preferment ;  he  had  to  be  frank  by  the  regal  type  of 
his  nature  ;  he  never  assumed  a  posture  or  a  tone  ;  his 
manners  were  the  undulation  of  his  morals,  and  so 
identical  with  them,  that,  as  with  the  old  Romans, 
but  one  word,  mores,  was  necessary  to  express  both. 
His  manners  were  the  true  exponent  of  his  heart.    x\nd 


EIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  51 

If  occasionally  too  brusque,  and  sometimes  arrogant, 
when  the  cerebral  excitement  to  which  he  was  liable 
was  upon  him,  they  could  not  hide  the  repentance 
which  promptly  overwhelmed  him,  when  he  knew 
that  he  had  wounded  the  feelings  of  any  one. 

The  great  organ  of  his  nature  was  his  heart.  And 
this,  like  the  ocean  or  the  sun,  was  constantly  dis- 
tributing itself.  Were  not  his  sympathies  so  large  and 
so  freely  given  as  to  eclipse  entirely  his  charities,  his 
pecuniary  gifts  would  have  seemed  worth  mention- 
ing. Ask  the  poor  of  Albany,  —  those,  for  whose 
relief  he  requested  a  number  of  gentlemen  to  meet 
him  when  his  own  funds  were  exhausted.  Ask  the 
church  at  Detroit,  to  which  he  gave  so  largely.  Ask 
the  persons  from  Maryland,  for  whom  he  collected 
thousands  of  dollars,  and  gave  much  himself,  to 
manumit  their  slaves.  Ask  the  boy  that  went  with 
him  at  night  in  the  winter  months  carrying  blan- 
kets in  the  sleigh,  when,  as  in  his  glee,  he  described 
it,  he  "  hit  twenty-seven  ;  "  that  is,  relieved  that  num- 
ber of  cases  of  suffering,  in  one  evening's  detour. 
Ask  the  family  of  the  sick  soldier  from  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Ogdensburg,  whom  Mr.  James  accom- 
panied from  the  hospital  In  Albany  to  his  home,  that 
the  Invalid  might  see  his  wife  and  children  before  he 
died,  supplying  his  every  want  and  those  of  the  in- 
mates of  his  lowly  habitation.  Ask  the  numerous 
clergymen  whom  he  furnished  with  Olshausen's  Com- 
mentary, and  other  valuable  books,   that  they  might 


52  BEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

share  his  joy  in  their  contents !     And  let  them  record 
their  testimony. 

Tliese  instances  may  seem  meagre  compared  with 
those  which  others  were  constantly  witnessing.  But 
are  they  not  sufficient  to  make  it  apparent,  that,  but  for 
the  private  channels  in  which  it  flowed,  Mr.  James 
would  have  been  (perhaps  he  is)  as  widely  known  for 
his  generosity  as  for  his  unique  organization?  The 
feeling  with  which  he  gave,  was  worth  so  much  in 
itself,  and  for  what  it  revealed,  that  the  perishable 
tokens  of  it  sank  out  of  sight.  And  what  shall  we 
say  of  his  friendships  .f*  They  were  formed  in  later 
years  somewhat  with  reference  to  the  capacity  or  need, 
as  he  thought, -in  the  subject  of  them,  for  spiritual 
relief  and  advancement.  Was  it  a  soul  dark  for  the 
want  of  an  apprehension  of  the  mercy  of  God  in 
Christ,  and  not  repellant  or  unintelligent  in  other  re- 
spects, he  could  not  withdraw  his  affection  from  it,  or 
his  labors.  It  was  on  one  of  the  high  hills  of  Berk- 
shire County,  under  the  shadows  of  the  forests,  that  he 
stood  for  a  long  time  talking  with  a  young  man  on  his 
favorite,  almost  his  only,  theme,  the  way  of  salvation ; 
until  at  last,  finding  his  words  not  understood  or  not 
appreciated,  he  threw  his  arms  around  him,  and,  hold- 
ing him  close  to  his  breast,  exclaimed,  with  great  in- 
tensity of  emotion,  and  in  deep  and  troubled  murmurs, 
repeating  the  phrase,  "You  want  doctrine."  In  this 
mind,  his  interest  never  abated  through  the  changes 
and  separations  of  life  ;  it  seemed  as  if  it  could  never 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  53 

die.  After  many  years,  when  writing  to  him,  he  said  : 
"  The  affairs  of  all  Europe  are  hardly  of  as  much 
moment  to  me  as  those  of  your  individual  person. 
Let  us  keep  marching,  and  keep  fighting.  If  I  get 
first  to  the  heights  of  victory  (eternal),  what  a  long 
arm  I  shall  stretch  to  pull  you  up  to  me." 

How  many,  if  they  should  read  this,  would  say.  My 
heart  and  welfare  he  thus  sought  and  thus  loved. 

I  need  not  say  that  his  more  intimate  friendships 
were  permanent.  They  could  not  change  or  abate. 
The  fibre  of  them  was  eternal ;  the  place  for  their 
exercise  chiefly  beyond  the  grave.  And  yet,  with  all 
this,  he  had  a  great  natural  heart,  with  the  promptings 
in  it  which  specially  warm  and  dignify  and  adorn 
mankind.  In  not  a  few,  the  memory  of  him,  in  this 
respect,  is  like  the  refrain  of  some  great  anthem, 
which  increases  as  it  comes  back  in  echoes  from  the 
scenes  amidst  which  its  notes  were  struck,  and  often 
after  the  hand  which  gave  them  is  taken  away. 

It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  the  summer  of  1S67,  that 
a  painful  and,  at  last,  fatal  disorder  began  to  prostrate 
his  powers.  He  thought  that  God  was  calling  him  ; 
and  He  was.  His  physicians  could  not  give  him  a 
great  deal  of  hope.  Nor  did  he  need  the  expectation 
of  remaining  here  to  comfort  him.  He  had  so  often 
thought  of  the  land  beyond  the  river,  that  its  outline 
was  very  familiar  to  his  imagination.  Early  in  No- 
vember, he  wrote  in  lead  pencil,  "  Since  my  last  to 
you,  I  have  been  gradually  sinking  ;  and  it  is  evidently 


54  Ji^V'    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

the  impression  of  those  around  me,  as  it  has  long  been 
my  own,  that  there  is  no  exit  from  my  compHcated 
malady  but  through  the  gate  of  death.  There  is  hardly 
a  square  inch  of  my  body,  below  the  small  of  my  back, 
which  is  not  the  seat  of  pain.  I  do  not  take  the  sofa, 
of  late,  nearly  as  much  as  formerly,  and  can  read  noth- 
ing of  any  account.  But  never  was  there  a  person  as 
low  as  I  am,  surrounded  with  more  outward  comforts : 
the  best  of  nursing  ;  the  warmest  sympathy  of  friends  ; 
delightful  letters  of  affection,  particularly  from  minis- 
ters who  have  been  informed  of  my  extremity.  But 
infinitely  better  still,  all  is  sunshine  within.  The  tree 
is  leafless,  but  the  warm  sun  of  Eternal  Love  is  shining 
around  me,  and  the  two  worlds  seem  to  open  into 
each  other.  I  wish  I  had  strength  to  tell  you  fully  the 
ground  of  my  peace.  For  six  months  or  more  before 
this  trouble  came  upon  me,  I  enjoyed  a  higher  degree 
of  communion  with  God  than  ever  before.  To  be  like 
Him,  to  have  the  cursed  root  of  sin  eradicated,  I 
offered  myself  up  in  daily  sacrifice  ;  willing  to  suffer 
every  thing  (for  I  saw  plainly  that  it  was  only  by  suffer- 
ing the  end  could  be  effected).  But,  with  the  first 
clear  and  real  view  of  approaching  judgment,  all  my 
evidences  were  of  no  more  account  than  the  drift-wood 
on  which  the  drowning  mariner  tries  to  rest  amidst  the 
surges  of  the  ocean.  I  never  really  knew  before  what 
sin  was,  nor  what  my  own  character  was.  I  saw  my- 
self to  be  the  basest  of  mankind  ;  '  of  whom  I  am 
chief  became  as  easy  as  the  alphabet. 


HIS  LIFE  AND    CHARACTER.  55 

"  Still  I  felt  as  a  child  ;  quite  as  anxious  that  the 
Father,  whom  I  had  so  injured,  should  be  glorified,  as 
that  I  should  be  delivered  from  His  wrath ;  and  now  I 
fully  appreciate,  as  I  had  always  pretty  well  under- 
stood, the  meaning  of  Christ's  death.  God  glorified,  and 
my  soul  certainly  saved,  by  Christ's  simply  dying  for 
me  ;  without  any  reference  to  my  own  character,  dying 
for  my  sins,  —  a  sense  of  which  alone  is  necessary  to  get 
all  the  benefits  of  His  death.  I  do  not  wonder  that  the 
only  song  in  the  upper  world  is,  '  To  Him  who  hath 
loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own 
blood  ;  to  Him,'  &c.  Soon  shall  I  join  in  that  eternal 
song. 

"No  young  girl  ever  felt  a  more  delightful  fluttering 
in  the  prospect  of  a  European  tour,  than  I  feel  in  the 
prospect  of  soon  seeing  the  land  of  never-withering 
flowers  ;  and  of  seeing  Christ,  and  knowing  Him,  and 
being  known  of  Him.  If  any  thing  favorable  occurs, 
you  shall  hear  ;  if  nothing,  then  farewell  '  till  we  meet 
on  the  bank  of  the  River  of  Life.' 

"  In  death,  as  in  life,  yours,  w.  j." 

Soon  after  this,  he  wrote,  "  In  the  hour  of  my  deep- 
est distress,  God  has  been  nearest  to  me.  I  have  been 
full  of  spiritual  comfort,  even  when  racked  with  pain ; 
and  all,  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  founded  not  on  any 
supposed  filial  relation  to  God,  but  on  the  sudden  over- 
whelming expansion  of  the  idea  that  Christ  died.  He 
put  His  sacred  body  between  the  sinner  and  the  curse. 


56  JiEV.   WILLIAM  JAMES. 

SO  that  the  severer  the  trial,  the  greater  and  surer  the 
blessing  to  any  one  who  just  believes  that  simple  fact. 
I  rest  in  the  sweet  will  of  God." 

On  Saturday  night,  the  15th  of  February,  1868,  he 
entered  into  his  rest.  Though  his  sickness  had  been 
long,  and  his  sufferings  severe,  his  joy  was  deep  and  full. 
"  It  is  all  joy,  joy,  joy  ! "  were  among  his  last  con- 
scious words.  Three  days  before  he  departed,  he  said, 
"  My  faith  is  perfect.  As  I  have  not  produced  it,  I 
may  speak  of  it  thus :  It  is  like  the  sun,  or,  rather," 
he  continued,  "  it  is  like  the  natural  sense  we  have  of 
the  sunlight, — quite  adequate  to  reveal  the  things  it  is 
designed  to  reveal."  At  another  time,  when  his  de- 
parture seemed  full  in  view,  he  said,  "  The  other  side 
is  sunny.  I  call  it  sunny,  because  I  see  only  God  in 
the  imclouded  heavens."  —  "I  expect  neither  surprise 
nor  disappointment  in  the  future.  Whatever  may  be 
in  it,  I  know  that  the  same  God  is  there  whom  I  have 
known  here,  and  I  trust  Him."  —  "My  mind  is  all 
ready  for  a  shout  at  the  vision  of  the  exceeding  glory." 
—  "  Nothing  is  so  precious  to  me  as  that  Christ  died 
for  us  ;  I  hear  a  voice  saying,  '  These  are  they  which 
have  washed  their  robes  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb.'"  With  such  words  as  these, 
spontaneously  uttered,  he  was  frequently  refreshing 
those  who  were  permitted  to  watch  the  shadows  de- 
parting, while  his  soul  entered  more  clearly  into  the 
dawning  and  into  the  day. 


EIS  LIFE  AND   CHARACTER.  ^>j 

The  last  words  dictated  by  him  for  his  daughter, 
about  a  week  before  his  death,  were  these  :  — 

"  I  could  neither  expect  nor  desire  more  outward 
comfort  than  I  have  ;  but  oh,  my  dear  child,  this  is  a 
small  matter  in  comparison  with  the  trust  in  my 
Heavenly  Father,  which  flows  on  in  a  constant 
stream,  no  more  to  be  shaken  or  changed  than  one's 
faith  in  the  declarations  of  a  Father's  love.  God's 
word,  revealing  His  full  character  to  me,  is  the  foun- 
tain at  which  I  quench  my  perpetual  thirst  for  the 
knowledge  of  His  love  to  me.  I  find  this  fountain 
not  only  free  as  water,  but  as  satisfying  as  water 
itself!" 

Thus  he  that,  in  his  early  days,  and  in  his  maturer 
manhood,  "  thirsted"  for  holiness,  came  to  the  fountain 
of  the  River  of  Life,  and  to  the  paradise  of  God, 
where  they  thirst  no  more. 

"  O  5/  sz'f  anima  mea  cum  te" 


LETTERS. 


LETTERS. 


I. 


"  Albany,  June  22,  i860. 

"  A/T^  DEAR .     If  I  remember  aright,  the  last 

-^^-^  words  of  my  last  letter  were,  that  I  would 
now  proceed  to  remove  your  difficulties  in  appro- 
priating and  realizing  the  great  promise  of  Christ's 
dwelling  in  you  by  His  Spirit.  These  difficulties  are 
all  concentrated  in  a  legal  construction  of  gospel  re- 
quirements. You  cannot  read,  for  example,  such  a 
passage  as  John  xiv.  21-23,  without  getting  the  im- 
pression that  the  promise  there  given  is  conditioned 
upon  something  to  be  done  which  is  distinct  from,  and 
subsequent  to,  believing ;  viz.,  upon  loving  Christ, 
and  manifesting  our  love  by  keeping  His  command- 
ments. 

"  It  must  not  be  questioned,  that  the  design  of  our 
Saviour  in  these  words  was  to  excite  His  disciples  in 
all  ages  to  spiritual  activity.  This  was  the  design  of 
all  His  words,  as  it  was  of  the  words  of  the  Apostles 
afterwards.  But  there  are  two  classes  of  motives  by 
which  the  activity  of  the  soul  may  be  stimulated, 
which  are  just  the  antipodes  of  each  other ;  viz.,  the 


62  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

certainty  of  the  object  sought  and  its  uncertainty,  —  its 
certainty  arising  from  the  infalHbility  of  the  Saviour's 
love  ;  its  uncertainty  arising  from  the  falHbility  of  ours. 
To  Christians,  in  so  far  as  they  are  under  the  law, 
which  they  should  not  be  at  all,  it  cannot  but  appear 
to  be  the  design  of  our  Saviour  in  this  passage  to  stim- 
ulate His  disciples  to  greater  watchfulness  and  dili- 
gence, that  they  may  thereby  insure  their  participation 
in  the  higher  blessings  of  grace,  and  then  they  cannot 
but  rest  in  the  fidelity  of  their  own  efforts  as  the  essen- 
tial condition  of  their  attainments.  But  before  they 
can  be  conscious  of  any  progress,  their  spiritual 
activity  must  cease  to  be  damped  by  any  such  uncer- 
tainty. In  resting  upon  Christ  alone  as  their  law- 
fulfiller,  they  must  see  that  they  are  virtually  obeying 
the  whole  commandment  of  the  Gospel ;  for  in  no 
other  way  can  love  be  generated.  Hence,  in  the 
phraseology  of  the  disciple  of  love,  of  the  Gospel  of 
John,  believing,  loving,  and  obeying  mean,  as  nearly 
as  possible,  the  same  thing ;  the  first  being  the  living 
root,  the  others  in  due  season  the  certain  fruit.  Noth- 
ing is  so  necessary,  I  am  persuaded,  for  the  removal  of 
your  chief  difficulties  as  your  perfect  settlement  upon 
this  principle,  —  that  faith  is  so  peculiarly  the  condition 
of  gospel  holiness,  that  the  attainment  of  the  latter  is 
certain,  only  provided  that  you  avoid  conditioning  it 
on  any  thing  else  ;  and  for  the  support  of  this  prin- 
ciple, I  can  do  nothing  more  pertinent  than  to  give 
you  my  own  exposition  of  the   passage    referred  to, 


LETTERS.  63 

John  xiv.  20-34,  showing  definitively  to  whom  those 
promises  are  made,  and  how,  or  in  what  way,  they  are 
actually  fulfilled. 

"  Preliminarily,  however,  to  such  an  exposition,  I 
must  ask  your  attention  to  a  few  words  on  the  occasion 
and  design  of  our  Lord's  last  address  to  his  disciples, 
in  the  midst  of  which  this  passage  occurs ;  for  there  is 
no  so  common  cause  of  our  partial  understanding  of 
the  Scriptures  as  our  habit  of  dwelling  upon  single 
verses,  and,  as  it  often  happens,  upon  single  words, 
without  sufficiently  considering  the  occasion  on  which 
they  were  spoken,  and  the  spirit  in  which  they  were 
uttered. 

"  Observe  then,  first,  that  the  special  design  of  all  this 
portion  of  the  Scriptures,  from  chap.  xiii.  to  chap,  xvii., 
inclusive,  was  (in  connection  with  giving  instruction) 
pre-eminently  to  strengthen  the  weak  and  the  dejected. 
The  idea  that  our  Lord  had  it  in  His  mind  on  such  an 
occasion  to  lay  down  tests  or  conditions  which  should 
throw  the  slightest  uncertainty  on  the  future  prospects 
of  those  whom  He  addressed,  is  so  incongruous  with 
the  sympathetic  movements  of  His  soul,  as  evinced 
in  the  whole  address,  that  it  refutes  itself.  Who  were 
the  persons,  what  was  their  quality,  from  whom  He 
could  not  separate  until  He  had  made  them  as  certain 
as  He  then  could  make  them  of  the  glory  which  should 
succeed  their  temporary  darkness?  Upon  the  first 
trial  all  forsook  Him,  and  one  of  them,  who  was 
thought   to   love   Him    most,    with    oaths    and    curses 


64  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

denied  Him.  Can  you  conceive,  then,  that  He  should 
have  made  the  glory  w^hich  He  was  promising  them 
conditional  upon  a  character  which  they  had  yet  to 
attain,  and  which,  possibly,  they  might  never  reach? 
How  entirely  would  such  a  conception,  had  there  been 
any  foundation  for  it  in  their  minds,  have  withered  all 
the  consolation  of  the  address,  and  frustrated  its  chief 
design ! 

"  Bear  in  mind,  secondly,  that  up  to,  and  at  this  very 
time,  the  eleven  whom  He  addressed  were  still  pos- 
sessed with  the  common  Jewish  notion,  that  the  Mes- 
siah's kingdom  was  to  be  a  world-wide  theocracy,  a 
manifestation  to  the  nations,  and  not  otherwise  to  the 
individual  soul.  They  had  as  yet  but  the  faintest  idea 
of  the  nature  of  His  kingdom  as  inward  and  spiritual. 
The  three  several  inquiries  of  Thomas,  Philip,  and 
Judas,  not  Iscariot,  arose  out  of  their  bewilderment 
upon  this  subject.  Hence  the  great  design  of  our 
Saviour  in  this  14th  chapter  (the  whole  of  which  is  an 
answer  to  their  inquiries),  is,  after  comforting  their 
human  personal  feelings,  or  in  connection  with  that, 
to  initiate  them  into  the  elementary  principles  of  spir- 
itual Christianity,  and  through  them  to  initiate  us  and 
all  mankind  ;  for  elementary  as  these  principles  are, 
and  common  as  they  have  become  to  us  through  a 
Christian  education,  they  transcend  all  the  knowledge 
of  natural  reason.  The  love  with  which  He  had  in- 
spired them  was  such,  that  His  intimation  of  being 
about  to  leave  them  had  filled  them  with  consterna- 


LETTERS. 


65 


tion,  while  it  unsettled  all  their  theories  of  the  nature 
of  His  coming  kingdom.  How  they  might  still  com- 
municate with  Him  after  His  departure,  and  how  He 
intended  to  carr}^  on  the  work,  which,  in  passing  from 
the  earth,  He  left  unfinished,  were  the  questions  in 
which  they  were  vitally  absorbed  ;  and  these  are  the 
subjects  in  which  our  Saviour  aims  to  instruct  them. 
In  the  verses  we  are  explaining.  His  design  is  to  show 
them  how  He  could  manifest  Himself  to  them  and 
not  unto  the  world  ;  how  He  could  come  to  them  and 
abide  with  them,  without  that  visible  or  bodily  glorifica- 
tion before  the  world,  with  which  all  their  ideas  of 
manifestation  had  been  associated. 

"  His  telling  them  that  He  was  going  to  his  Father, 
and  that,  too,  through  the  common  gate  of  mortality, 
seemed  to  leave  them  as  dependent  on  the  absolute 
God  as  they  had  been  before  His  coming,  and  subject, 
of  course,  to  all  that  uncertainty  as  to  their  future  des- 
tiny which  this  idea  must  ever  awaken  in  the  human 
conscience.  How  natural  the  language  of  Philip, 
'  Show  us  the  Father ;  give  us  some  manifestation  by 
which  we  may  know,  without  any  perplexity  hereafter, 
how  He  is  affected  towards  us ' !  How  complete  the 
reply :  '  I  am  that  manifestation  ;  for  all  vital  pur- 
poses, he  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father; 
tliough  personally  distinct,  we  are  yet  so  united  in 
character,  affection,  and  purpose,  that  as  I  have  done 
nothing  hitherto  in  your  behalf,  except  as  directed  by 
Him,  you   may  be   certain  that   He  will   do   nothing 

5 


(i6  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

hereafter  apart  from  me.  As  He  is  so  much  the 
object  of  my  love  that  I  could  not  have  come  to  earth 
but  by  His  order,  I,  on  the  other  hand,  am  so  much 
the  object  of  His  love,  that  after  my  departure  you 
may  depend  on  His  doing  whatever  I  request  for  you  : 
and  though  you  have  derived  so  much  instruction, 
strength,  and  comfort  from  my  personal  presence  and 
teachings,  these  are  but  a  pledge  of  something  far 
higher,  which  my  Father,  at  my  request,  will  do  for 
you  after  I  have  ascended  ;  for  in  my  name,  —  that  is, 
at  my  instigation,  —  He  will  send  you  another  Com- 
forter, who  will  abide  with  you  for  ever.  Not  to  the 
world,  observe,  for  the  world,  as  such,  cannot  receive 
Him,  having  no  susceptibility  for  His  communications, 
which  relate  altogether  to  me  ;  and  what  interest  has 
the  world  in  me?  Therefore,  "it  seeth  Him  not, 
neither  knoweth  Him,  but  ye  know  Him"  (/.^.,  speak- 
ing by  anticipation,  shall  know  Him)  ;  for  your  interest 
in  me  is  such  that  you  cannot  fail  to  receive  the  mes- 
senger whom  I  send,  and  through  whom  my  Father  and 
I  will  hereafter  for  ever  manifest  ourselves  to  you.  I 
cannot  be  manifested  to  the  world  as  you  have  been 
expecting,  because  the  nature  of  the  Spirit's  manifesta- 
tions of  me  is  such  that  the  world  has  no  interest  in 
them.  The  world  loveth  me  not,  and  no  prospect  of 
communion  with  me  could  induce  it  to  forsake  any 
of  its  unspiritual  ways,  or  to  keep  any  of  those  sayings 
or  commandments  with  which  such  communion  is 
necessarily  connected.     But  in  you  who  truly  love  me. 


LETTERS.  67 

whose  deepest  concern  is  to  abide  in  my  love,  and  to 
keep  those  sayings  of  mine  by  which  your  love  shall 
be  manifested,  in  you  the  Spirit,  w^hich  represents  both 
me  and  my  Father,  shall  take  up  his  abode.  "  At  that 
day  ye  shall  know  that  I  am  in  my  Father,  and  ye  in 
me  and  I  in  you."' 

"  Such,  beyond  a  question,  is  the  true  meaning  of 
these  verses,  or  the  spirit  of  them,  rather,  for  their  more 
precise  meaning  I  purpose  hereafter  to  unfold.  Their 
immediate  design  is  to  show  the  disciples  why  it  Is  and 
how^  it  is,  that,  while  the  world  shall  see  Him  no  more, 
His  presence  with  them  shall  be  perpetual.  Whilst 
there  shall  be  no  such  manifestation  to  the  eye  of  the 
world  as  they  have  been  expecting,  there  shall  be  a 
manifestation  to  them  which  shall  keep  up  their  per- 
sonal relations  with  Him  —  the  great  point  of  their 
present  anxiety  —  for  ever.  The  promise  is  not  condi- 
tional, but  absolute  ;  for,  though  made  to  a  particular 
class  of  persons,  the  quality  in  them  which  insures  its 
fulfilment,  which  is  not  their  merit,  but  simply  their 
moral  susceptibility,  or  their  capacity  to  be  affected  by 
promises  like  these,  is  assumed.  The  promise  is  to 
those  of  every  age  of  time,  who,  with  an  abiding  con- 
sciousness of  sin,  have,  at  the  same  time,  such  a  desire 
for  purity  or  fellowship  with  God,  that  a  being  like 
Christ,  who,  blending  in  His  Divine  humanity  the 
sacredness  of  the  skies  with  the  sympathies  of  clay,  de- 
scends from  heaven  only  to  conduct  them  thither,  can- 
not fail  to  be  the  object  of  their  supreme  affection,  as 


68  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

His  sayings  and  commandments  must  be  the  matter 
of  their  most  earnest  meditation. 

"  Having  given  you  this  general  view  of  the  occa- 
sion and  design  of  the  passage,  the  settlement  of  the 
two  points  already  stated  will  fulfil  the  purpose  of  my 
letter.  Who  are  the  persons  to  whom  the  promise  is 
made  ;  and  how,  in  their  case,  is  the  promise  fulfilled  } 

"  It  is  made  to  those  who  love  Christ,  and  keep  His 
commandments.  What  is  meant  by  loving  Christ.!* 
We  love  those  who  love  us  ;  we  love  them  in  propor- 
tion to  the  sacrifices  they  make  for  us,  and  we  love 
them  inexpressibly,  when  they  are  so  much  our  supe- 
riors, that  we  cannot  tell  why  they  should  love  us  at 
all.  Can  you  not  affirm  that  you  thus  love  the  Saviour.? 
Can  you  not  say  with  Peter,  '  Thou  who  knowest  all 
things,  knowest  that  I  love  Thee.'  Answer  directly 
from  your  consciousness,  as  Peter  did,  in  view  simply 
of  the  report  which  the  gospel  brings  of  the  person 
of  Christ  and  His  love  to  you,  and  without  respect  to 
any  doctrines  about  what  love  to  Christ  should  be,  in 
which  you  may  have  been  educated.  You  have  had 
the  idea  that  the  fellowship  which  Christ  offers  you  is 
burthened  with  difficult  conditions.  But  suppose  you 
could  be  persuaded  that  this  was  an  entire  misconcep- 
tion ;  that  the  primary  requirement  of  the  gospel  is 
not  that  you  should  love  Him,  but  that  you  should 
repose  with  unchanging  confidence  on  the  assurance 
of  His  love  to  you, — no  love  or  service  being  desired 
or  expected  of  you  but  such  as  this  faith  will  secure 


LETTERS, 


69 


according  to  its  strength  spontaneously  generated,  the 
real  demand  being  for  faith,  and  for  faith  alone,  faith 
in  His  love  under  all  possible  conditions :  do  you  not 
believe,  that  if  this  view  —  v^hich,  you  must  perceive, 
contains  the  quintessence  of  the  gospel,  instead  of 
being  a  theory  merely — were  to  become  a  vital  reality, 
—  which  it  will  become  exactly  in  proportion  as  you 
act  upon  it,  —  that  you  would  soon  be  able  to  answer 
with  Peter,  '  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee '  ?  The 
love,  then,  is  there  ;  the  only  or  principal  obstruction 
to  its  development  and  consciousness  being,  that  its 
object  has  never  been  adequately  or  clearly  conceived. 
Tell  me,  farther,  are  you  not  conscious  that  your  deep- 
est want  is  not  of  affection  simply,  but  of  affection 
combined  with  purity,  —  the  love  of  a  higher  nature, 
but  of  a  nature  which  in  loving  will  purify  and  exalt 
you.  It  is  not  peace  simply  that  you  seek,  but  peace 
unto  purification.  By  a  necessity  which  no  power  of 
will  can  change,  your  affections  (I  speak  of  their 
natural  state)  —  made,  as  you  cannot  but  know,  to  find 
their  happiness  in  a  conscious  alliance  with  the  All- 
True,  the  All-Good,  and  the  All-Fair  —  are  not  reduced 
to  the  alternative  of  for  ever  pursuing  an  illusion,  or  at 
once  yielding  to  despair.  Here  is  the  whole  of  your 
trouble  :  your  heart,  made  distrustful  by  sin  of  the  only 
Being  whose  love  can  satisfy  you,  is  ever  tempted  to 
seek  a  substitute  for  His  affections  in  visions  of  earthly 
bliss,  which,  however  warmly  you  pursue,  you  know  you 
can  never  embrace.  Were  it  but  possible  that  the  higher 


70 


REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 


nature,  without  any  degradation  to  itself,  could  em- 
brace you  just  as  you  are,  and  hold  you  in  its  embrace 
till  you  were  completely  purified  !  Oh,  could  the  All- 
Good  and  the  All-Fair  but  give  you  the  assurance  that 
He  would  descend  to  you  in  your  unhappy  state,  and 
love  you  with  a  love  that  should  never  change  ;  could  He 
give  you  the  assurance  that  He  had  begun  to  deliver 
you  from  the  bondage  of  corruption  ;  that  you  were 
encircled  by  the  arms  of  His  love  and  wisdom,  —  of 
which  the  one  should  direct,  and  the  other  support 
you,  through  all  the  trials  of  your  pilgrimage  path, 
—  till  sin  and  sorrow  shall  be  totally  merged  in  the 
everlasting  brightness  of  the  heavenly  horizon  ;  and  not 
content  with  a  verbal  assurance  of  this  by  the  moutK. 
of  a  messenger,  should  He  come  Himself  in  the  like- 
ness of  your  own  sinful  flesh,  and  first  removing  that 
greatest  hindrance  to  an  entrance  into  the  Holiest, 
which  arises  from  an  ever-accusing  conscience,  make 
His  own  soul  an  expiatory  oflering  for  all  your  sin, 
past  and  future,  in  this  respect,  by  that  one  offering 
'perfecting  you  for  ever'  (Heb.  x.  14)  ;  and  then,  be- 
fore returning  to  His  Father  and  your  Father,  to  His 
heaven  and  your  heaven,  should  He,  though  His  soul 
is  exceeding  sorrowful  in  prospect  of  the  sufferings  be- 
fore Him,  as  the  burthen  of  His  last  address  to  you,  to 
guard  you  in  every  conceivable  way  against  future  dis- 
couragement, saying,  '  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled  ; 
for  though  I  am  going  away,  it  is  to  receive  the  reward 
of  my  suflerings,  —  a  reward  of  which,  in  due  season, 


LETTERS. 


71 


you  shall  be  a  partaker  with  me  ;  I  go  to  fulfil  an 
office  for  you  in  my  state  of  glory,  without  which  my 
sufferings  for  you  would  be  to  no  purpose  ;  I  go  to 
prepare  a  place  for  you  in  my  Father's  house,  from 
w^iich  I  will  soon  return  and  take  you  to  myself;  that 
where  I  am  there  you  may  be  also,  never  more  to  be 
separated  ;  and,  meanwhile,  our  separation  shall  be 
only  outward  ;  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless  ;  in  a 
way  of  which  you  shall  soon  have  an  ex^Derience,  I 
will  manifest  myself  to  you  ;  I  cannot,  indeed,  prom- 
ise you  an  exem25tion  from  worldly  trials  ;  and  that  you 
may  not  be  offended  wdien  they  come,  I  feel  it  neces- 
sary to  impress  it  upon  you  that  from  such  trials, 
and  manifold  too,  there  can  be  no  discharge.  0?ily 
be  of  good  cheer :  all  power  is  committed  to  me  in 
heaven  and  on  earth  ;  the  world  of  nature  and  the 
world  of  spirits  are  so  entirely  under  my  control  that 
nothing  can  befall  you  but  with  my  co-operatioa ; 
and  be  assured  that  no  trial  shall  be  permitted  but  that 
(with  faith  in  me)  may  be  easily  borne,  and  shall  issue 
in  a  deeper  and  abiding  peace;'  —  tell  me  would  not 
this  be  a  true  —  is  it  not  the  only  true  —  presentation 
of  Christ,  of  his  character  and  his  relations  to  our  fallen 
humanity?  And,  as  thus  presented,  have  you  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  in  saying,  '  Lord,  Thou  knowest  that 
I  love  Thee  '  ?  '  Ah,'  but  you  say,  '  the  great  proof  of 
love  to  Christ  is,  that  we  keep  his  commandments,  and 
herein  I  am  conscious  of  a  signal  deficiency  :  I  have 
no  evidence  of  this   sort  upon  which  I  can  rely  for  a 


72 


EEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 


moment.'  And  do  you  really  suppose  that  Peter's 
answer  to  the  question,  Lovest  thou  me,  which  you 
cannot  doubt  was  a  true  one,  and  most  acceptable  to 
his  Master,  was  founded  upon  the  proofs  which  he  had 
given  of  it  (a  singular  test  for  him)  ;  that  it  was  the 
result  of  a  particular  self-examination,  of  the  discovery 
of  some  tolerable  conformity  between  his  life  and  his 
obligations  ?  Is  it  not  obvious,  upon  the  slightest  re- 
flection, that  it  was  simply  a  burst  of  feeling  quick- 
ened bv  a  sense  of  his  miserable  failures  and  the 
amazingly  manifested  love  of  such  a  superior  Being, 
to  one  wholly  unworthy ?  'Ah,'  but  you  say,  'there 
was  at  least  repentance.'  Well,  if  you  would  conceive 
of  Christ  as  being  always  to  you  just  what  He  was  to 
Peter,  always  your  friend,  and  peculiarly  so  when  con- 
scious of  having  fallen  (your  ordinary  state  perhaps), 
would  there  not  be  the  same  power  of  repentance 
always  in  you,  and  therefore  always  the  same  ready 
response,  '  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee  '  ? 

"  Depend  upon  it  that  this  susceptibility  to  the 
claims  of  Christ  upon  our  supreme  affection  —  though 
painfully  conscious  as  yet  of  the  power  of  rival  affec- 
tions, of  which  we  would  fain  be  delivered  —  is  the 
kernel  of  the  w^iole  matter,  the  germ  of  a  perfect  sanc- 
tification.  If  you  have  but  this,  though  you  have  noth- 
ing beyond  it,  you  are  the  person  to  whom  the  prom- 
ise is  made.  The  fulness  of  the  love  of  God  is  first 
manifested  to  us,  attracts  and  moves  us,  in  the  person- 
ality of  the  Son  of  man,  so  worthy  of  supreme  love. 


LETTERS. 


73 


Love  in  us  is,  at  bottom,  that  response  of  the  heart  to 
which  we  are  moved  by  a  sense  of  the  adaptation  of 
such  condescension  to  our  helpless  necessities.  The 
'keeping'  of  the  commandments,  to  which  the  promise 
is  made,  is  primarily  that  posture  of  believing-loving, 
or  loving-believing  attention  and  regard  to  His  words, 
which  is  produced  by  the  dependence  of  our  hearts 
upon  Him.  It  is  the  sighing  to  be  more  conformed  to 
Him.  It  is  that  repenting,  coming,  praying,  hoping, 
believing,  waiting,  which  His  promises  have  inspired, 
and  which  is  all  that  we  can  do  in  our  present  weak- 
ness. These  are  pre-eminently  and  first  of  all  His  com- 
mandments. The  desire  to  '  keep  '  avails,  in  the  sight 
of  grace,  as  if  it  were  the  full  performance.  For  such 
as  would  fain  love  and  keep,  in  the  fullest  sense,  but 
cannot  for  the  want  of  farther  strength,  the  great  man- 
ifestation is  just  as  certain  as  that  the  splendors  of  day 
shall  succeed  the  dimness  of  earliest  dawn.  Theirs  is 
the  blessedness  of  that  hunger  which  shall  certainly  be 
filled  ;  of  those  beginnings  of  purity,  though  at  present 
mainly  indicated  by  a  sense  of  the  contrary,  which 
shall  soon  be  perfected  by  the  full  vision  of  God. 

"They  have  only  to  avoid  the  error,  so  fatal  to  peace 
and  progress,  of  conceiving  the  love  of  Christ  as  con- 
ditioned on  theirs,  and  of  His  promises  as  being  other 
than  absolute.  If  that  fountain  which  has  been  opened 
in  their  hearts  by  thus  '  seeing  the  Son,  and  believing 
on  Him,'  can  be  kept  open,  —  kept  living,  though  its 
streams  at  present  scarcely  flow,  being  obstructed  by 


74  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

SO  many  obstacles,  —  a  manifestation  awaits  them,  than 
which  there  is  nothing  higher  or  greater  for  man.  '  At 
that  day  ye  shall  know  that  I  am  in  my  Father,  and  ye 
in  me  and  I  in  you.' 

"  What  is  meant  by  this  promise,  and  how  it  is 
actually  fulfilled,  shall  be  the  subject  (the  Spirit  help- 
ing) of  a  future  letter. 

"  And  now,  my  child,  '  for  whom  I  travail  in  birth 
till  Christ  be  formed  in  you,'  let  your  mind  be  fixed  on 
this  single  point,  that  the  love  of  Christ  to  you,  not 
yours  to  Him  in  the  slightest  degree,  must  be  your 
v^hole  dependence.  Study  yourself  if  you  please,  for 
you  cannot  well  help  it,  but  only  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  a  larger  and  firmer  grasp  of  the  hand  of  your 
Lord.  To  keep  your  mind  properly  occupied,  which 
is  a  great  matter,  I  send  you  the  best  expositor  of  the 
Gospel  of  John,  for  its  size,  in  any  language  ;  much 
better  for  you  than  Stier's,  which  I  had  designed  to 
send ;  though,  I  am  happy  to  say,  they  are  entirely  har- 
monious with  each  other.  You  will  find  no  difficulty 
in  reading  it,  as  the  Greek  is  generally  translated. 
Both  in  the  kind  and  amount  of  help  which  the  reading 
of  Olshausen  may  bring  you,  you  may  be  a  little  dis- 
appointed ;  but,  here  and  there,  there  are  thoughts 
which  may  live  in  you  for  ever.  The  longer  you  keep 
the  book,  the  better  I  shall  be  pleased  ;  and,  if  there 
should  be  a  demand  for  the  other  volumes  of  his  com- 
mentary, I  shall  be  greatly  delighted.  For  myself,  I 
have  always  another  copy  on  hand. 


LETTERS. 


75 


"  Remember,  farther,  that  the  issue  of  your  thus  de- 
pending entirely  on  Christ's  love  to  you,  will  be  the 
deepening  and  strengthening  of  your  love  to  Him. 
What  you  really  w^ant,  is  His  love  of  complacency, 
not  alone  His  love  of  conpassion  ;  not  merely  'you  in 
Him,'  which  is  equivalent  to  a  sense  of  justification, 
but,  above  all,  '  Him  in  you,'  which  is  equivalent  to 
sanctification.  And  this  is  what  He  has  promised  as 
the  end  of  your  keeping  His  sayings  or  command- 
ments, of  which  the  great  characteristic,  as  distin- 
guished from  those  of  a  strictly  legal  character,  is  this : 
that  the  latter,  as  Olshausen  says,  in  page  558  of  the 
volume  I  send  you,  are  naked  injunctions  ;  the  others 
contain  in  themselves  the  power  for  their  own  perform- 
ance. If  Christ  commands.  He  gives,  in  the  command 
itself,  the  power  of  fulfilling  it.  Thus  He  commands 
us  to  love.  Love  is  the  essence  and  end  of  all  His 
commands  ;  but  it  is  that  love  of  which  faith  (faith  in 
His  love)  is  the  root.  The  whole  commandment,  then, 
is  not  love  alone,  but  faith  also,  which  gives  the  power 
to  love.  If  love  is  the  fruit,  faith  is  the  root.  If 
love  is  the  end  of  the  commandment,  as  Paul  says, 
I  Tim.  i.  5,  faith  is  its  beginning;  not,  observe,  in  the 
order  of  time,  but  in  the  order  of  nature  :  there  is  always 
just  as  much  love  as  there  is  faith.  But  as  faith  grows 
into  a  habit  of  depending,  leaning  upon  Christ's  bosom 
and  finding  His  succor  in  your  trials,  love  will  grow  in 
the  same  ratio,  until,  at  length,  not  only  will  the  easier 


^6  BEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

sayings  of  Christ  be  fulfilled,  but  there  will  be  a  grow- 
ing consciousness  of  entire  self-sacrifice,  and  with  that 
there  will  come  a  growing  consciousness  of  the  Divine 
complacency,  —  the  highest  goal  of  human  aspira- 
tions." 


II. 


"Albany,  Dec.  25,  1867. 

"  A/T^  DEAR .     On  Sunday,  the  9th,  I  gave 

■^'-'-  up  truly  and  perfectly  all  my  hope  for  earth. 
The  old  symptoms  of  disease  came  back  ujDon  me 
with  such  power,  that  there  was  no  resisting  the  con- 
viction that  the  premonitory  tokens  of  the  great 
change  were  upon  me. 

"Since  God  uses  instruments  to  accomplish  His  gra- 
cious purposes,  I  write  now  with  the  strong  hope  that 
He  will  once  more  employ  my  humble  instrumentality 
to  still  further  strengthen  your  faith,  and  revive  the 
spirit  of  the  contrite  one.  I  have  a  doctrine  to  pro- 
claim to  you,  which  you  know,  which  we  have  both 
known,  which,  more  than  any  other,  lies  at  the  founda- 
tion of  all  true  Christian  experience,  but  which  has 
been  brought  home  to  me,  recently,  with  a  power  of 
which  I  never  had  any  experience  before. 

"  It  is  only  for  the  sake  of  setting  the  doctrine  in  the 
clearest  light,  that  I  must  ask  you  to  let  me  give 
you  an  outline  of  my  spiritual  history  for  some  time 
past.  In  a  weak,  a  dreadfully  weak,  manner,  I  have 
been    always    contending  with  the  selfishness  of  my 


78  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

heart,  never  conquering,  but  never  yielding ;  that  is, 
never  giving  up  the  hope  of  a  conquest  at  last.  To 
come  down  to  the  last  six  months  (though  w^hat  I 
say  of  this  period  has  been  true,  in  a  great  degree, 
for  a  much  longer  time),  my  sense  of  the  hateful- 
ness  of  this  moral  leprosy,  and  yet  of  my  helpless- 
ness to  get  rid  of  it,  has  been  so  acute,  that  I  have 
rejoiced  in  suffering  which  would  give  a  deliverance 
from  this  deep-rooted  malady.  Some  occurrences  in 
Providence,  of  a  very  small  kind  in  themselves,  were 
the  occasion  of  opening  my  eyes  to  a  more  humiliating 
view  of  my  character  and  life,  than  I  had  ever  had, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  awakening  the  profoundest 
grief  and  repentance.  I  was  not  rebellious,  but  gave 
my  cheek  to  the  smiter.  Together  with  the  repent- 
ance, I  had  what  I  may  say  was  the  first  clear,  un- 
clouded, unmixed  view  of  the  character  and  relation 
to  me  of  God,  as  a  Father,  that  I  ever  had  in  my  life  ; 
the  first  really  natural  view,  every  other  view  being  a 
compromise  of  the  simple  declaration  of  the  Scriptures 
with  the  reasonings  and  results  of  speculative  theol- 
ogv.  From  that  time  until  my  great  trouble  came  upon 
me,  I  was  rejoicing  in  God  as  pure  love,  —  as  full  of 
love  as  the  sun  is  of  light.  During  that  time,  I  wrote 
on  the  subject,  and  preached,  as  all  testify,  as  I  never 
did  before.  But  there  was  one  subject  on  which  I  was 
yet  dark  and  felt  my  darkness,  and  prayed  continually 
that  it  might  be  removed  ;  that  was  the  exact  relation 
of  the  atonement  to  the  reconciliation  which  seemed 


LETTERS. 


79 


SO  perfect.  I  had,  as  I  have  always  had,  the  common 
dogmatic  views  which  are  held  by  the  Church  on  this 
subject.  But  those  views  had  never  had  any  such 
effect  u^Don  my  heart  as  the  simple  view  of  the  love  of 
God  now  had.  About  this  I  was  troubled  :  I  could 
not  doubt,  somehow,  that  the  late  speculations  on  the 
subject  of  the  atonement  were  wrong.  I  could  not 
reconcile  them  with  the  Scriptures,  and  yet  all  my 
experience,  as  well  as  my  reflection,  was  pushing  me 
in  that  direction.  I  never  could  settle  in  those  views, 
and  yet  I  knew  not  how  to  escape  them.  I  prayed 
continually  that  God,  by  His  Spirit,  would  make  this 
matter  plain  to  me.  This  was  my  state  of  mind  when 
I  went  to  New  York  for  medical  advice. 

"  But  about  my  bodily  malady  while  there,  I  had  very 
little  concern.  Another  concern,  infinitely  more  terrible, 
took  possession  of  me  in  the  hours  of  my  deep  retire- 
ment. As  by  a  flash  of  lightning  from  the  judgment- 
seat,  I  was  at  once  prostrated  by  a  clear  apprehension 
of  sin.  My  whole  spiritual  fabric,  which  I  have  all  my 
life  been  building,  —  and  which  just  before  had  seemed 
so  beautifully  illuminated  by  the  love  of  God,  —  fell 
into  a  shapeless  ruin.  Conscience  was  stirred  to  its 
lowest  depths.  The  one  sin  which  first  attracted  my 
attention,  hardly  even  seriously  thought  of  before,  but 
now  made  so  clear,  was  merely  the  entering  wedge  ;  my 
whole  heart  was  laid  open,  and  it  seemed  to  be  noth- 
ing but  a  nest  of  vipers  ;  my  whole  life  seemed  nothing 
but  one  tissue  of  corruption.     I  saw  all  the  good  there 


8o  BEV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

was  about  it  as  clearly  as  ever ;  my  perpetual  struggle 
with  evil,  the  many  manifestations  I  have  had  of  God's 
favor,  my  successes  over  particular  temptations,  —  all 
these  stood  in  my  mind  just  as  they  had  stood  before. 
But  I  saw  that  all  these  were  very  superficial  and  com- 
paratively external,  as  evidences  of  a  justified  or  sancti- 
fied state.  They  were  overshadowed  by  one  vast  sin, 
which  filled  my  whole  vision,  and  overwhelmed  me 
with  shame  and  humiliation.  How  shall  I  give  you  an 
idea  of  the  nature  of  the  sin  ?  It  may  be  expressed  in 
a  single  word,  —  unbelief,  or  the  non-appreciation  of 
Christ.  At  once  I  saw,  almost  as  by  a  new  sense  (though 
it  was  simply  the  old  sense  intensely  acuminated),  the 
man  Christ  Jesus,  —  the  sent-of-God  to  save  a  sinful, 
self-destroyed  race.  No  vision  of  the  senses  could  be 
more  real,  or  hardly  more  distinct ;  it  was  just  as  impres- 
sive as  if  He  had  come  to  save  me  alone.  I  saw  Him 
in  all  His  searching  pureness,  and  in  all  His  inexpres- 
sible love  ;  the  gift  of  the  Father  (like  the  sun  in  the 
heavens)  to  illuminate  a  dark  world  ;  the  Light  of 
man  to  point  out,  by  His  example  eminently,  and  by 
His  precepts,  what  man  may  be  and  ought  to  be  ;  and 
with  this,  the  Friend  of  man,  nearer  than  any  brother, 
full  of  love  to  him,  and  with  all  power  to  help  him, 
—  a  love  which  carried  Him  to  a  death  of  ignominy, 
from  which  He  was  raised,  by  the  power  of  the 
Father,  still  in  His  exalted  state,  to  be  the  friend 
and  brother  of  man,  —  to  be  not  merely  present  to 
him  outwardly,  but  by  His  Spirit  to   be   in   him  ;    a 


LETTERS.  8 1 

union  not  moral  merely,  depending  on  man's  good 
behavior,  —  however  that  might  affect  the  sense  of 
it, — but  spiritual  and  everlasting,  depending  on  His 
mysterious  love.  This  is  the  gospel,  in  the  light  of 
which  I  have  been  walking  all  my  life  ;  and  how  has 
my  life  corresponded  to  it  ?  What  influence  has  it  had 
upon  my  character?  Such  has  been  His  devotion  to 
me,  what  has  been  mine  to  Him?  If  I  had  had  a  real 
faith  in  this  Ma7t^  —  this  gift  of  the  Father's  love,  and 
Himself  the  Father's  love,  in  its  liveliest  possible  ex- 
emplification, how  could  it  have  been  that  my  whole 
life,  in  all  its  inward  breathings  and  outward  expres- 
sions, would  have  been  any  thing  else  but  one  continuous 
act  of  love  and  devotion  to  Him  ?  How  I  should  have 
felt  Him  ever  with  me,  before  me  as  my  guide,  within 
me  as  my  comforter,  behind  me  as  the  rock  of  my  sup- 
port, enabling  me  to  look  down  with  simple  pity  upon 
the  world,  whose  vain  opinion  I  have  so  much  courted, 
and  to  avoid  whose  censure  I  have  so  constantly  re- 
frained from  every  thing  like  a  bold,  aggressive  pro- 
fession !  How  plain  it  became  to  me  that  I  had  never 
really  or  thoroughly  believed  on  Him  !  This  is  what 
I  mean  by  sin :  not  accepting  this  light  of  the  world, 
and  constantly  walking  in  it,  just  as  I  accept  and  walk 
in  the  light  of  the  noonday  sun.  '  Of  sin,  because 
they  believe  not  in  me;'  believing  in  Him,  or  rather 
in  certain  doctrines  about  Him,  only  with  the  view  of 
preserving  peace  of  conscience,  but  not  giving  my 
whole  heart  and  every  action  of  my  life  to  Him.  I 
6 


82  REV.    WILLIAM  JAMES. 

now  saw  clearly  what  is  meant  by  a  personal  union 
with  Christ,  by  a  being  in  Him,  as  the  branch  is  in  the 
vine  ;  and  I  was  as  clearly  conscious  that  this  had 
never  been  the  nature  of  my  union  with  Him,  for  that 
had  been  compulsory,  an  external  thing.  In  view  of  all 
this,  I  found  myself  a  sinner  ;  and  a  sinner,  considering 
my  peculiar  advantages,  of  the  most  aggravated  char- 
acter. My  condemnation  was  certain  ;  all  past  expe- 
riences I  utterly  renounced.  I  did  not  want  to  be 
saved  in  virtue  of  any  such  miserable  stuff.  I  wanted 
a  real  salvation,  —  a  salvation  direct  from  God, 
in  perfect  harmony  with  His  perfections,  given  not 
merely  because  I  was  a  miserable  perishing  creature, 
the  proper  object  of  compassion  (though  I  made  much 
use  of  this  plea),  but  because  he  could  give  it  justly 
and  holily,  without  a  shadow  of  loss  to  His  own  honor. 
And,  observe  farther,  the  salvation  I  wanted  was  sim- 
ply forgiveness ;  nothing  else  had  any  sort  of  con- 
gruity  with  my  case.  The  sword  of  offended  Justice 
was  impending  over  me.  Regeneration  could  not 
save  me,  even  if  it  were  possible  to  have  it.  I  felt 
that  I  had  repentance,  and  that  was  a  great  comfort  to 
me  ;  though  still,  as  I  apprehended  my  sin,  I  could  not 
build  any  confidence  upon  my  repentance.  I  wanted 
forgiveness,  not  merely  deliverance  from  wrath,  but 
some  sign  of  the  love  of  the  Father  and  the  grace  of 
the  Saviour,  whom  I  had  so  deeply  oflended,  and 
whose  frown  was  eternal  sorrow,  grief  without  remedy. 
God    appeared  to  me  not  at  all  as  an  angry  despot, 


LETTERS. 


83 


but  as  a  most  loving  Father ;  and  Christ  as  my  loving 
Saviour.  The  dread  which  was  upon  my  spirit,  was 
not  of  some  mysterious  penalty  in  another  world,  an 
Infliction  of  evil,  but  of  separation  from  the  source  of 
all  love,  —  from  the  bosom  of  a  Father,  and  particu- 
larly from  that  blessed  Being  who  had  given  His  life 
for  man.  The  forgiveness,  of  which  I  felt  such  a  need, 
Implied  the  return  of  those  affections  to  me  ;  that  was 
what  I  wanted,  —  that  was  salvation. 

"  The  only  particle  of  light  that  gave  me  any  hope 
here  was  Christ's  sacrificial  suffering.  Whether  or 
not  I  should  ever  receive  the  benefit  of  the  atonement, 
It  was  now  just  as  clear  as  that  Christ  came  Into  the 
world,  that  He  came  specially,  eminently,  above  every 
other  part  of  His  mission,  for  the  purpose  of  dying  for 
sin,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  the  sinner's  place  In  the 
eye  of  the  law  and  justice,  so  that  the  sinner  could  feel 
that  there  was  no  moral  necessity  for  his  punishment ; 
and  that  God  could  be  just,  and  yet  forgive  him  bound- 
lessly. I  could  no  longer  doubt  that  this  is  just  what 
all  those  scriptural  expressions,  about  Christ's  dying 
for  us,  mean.  I  could  not  avoid  seeing  that  if  that  Is 
not  the  gospel,  it  would  be  no  more  suited  to  one  In 
my  condition,  which  Is,  at  some  time  or  other,  the 
universal  condition,  than  a  code  of  morals.  I  knew 
that  God  was  good,  loving,  merciful,  &c. ;  but  I 
just  as  well  knew,  and  at  present  far  more  Im- 
pressively, that  He  was  just  also.  Of  the  possibil- 
ity  of  forgiveness   in    a    way   of  righteousness,   then 


84  -R^^-    WILL /AM  JAMES. 

I  entertained  not  the  slightest  misgiving.  It  was  all 
my  comfort,  while  my  own  individual  case  w^as  doubt- 
ful ;  but  that  was  still  doubtful.  I  saw  that  I  was 
quite  as  properly  a  subject  for  justice  as  for  mercy ; 
that  nothing  could  be  more  exactly  righteous,  than  that 
I  should  be  excepted,  if  any  one,  and  there  certainly 
are  many,  from  the  provisions  of  grace.  Though  the 
doctrine  of  Christ's  sacrifice  saved  me  from  despair,  I 
had  not  the  faith  which  could  assure  me  of  a  deliver- 
ance from  the  penalty,  —  the  penalty  of  abusing  grace. 
It  seemed  most  righteous  that  grace  so  abused  should 
vindicate  itself  in  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  my  supplica- 
tions. I  saw  plainly  that  Christ's  work  merely  put  it 
in  God's  power  to  save  me,  if  He  chose  to  do  so  ;  and 
that  if  I,  so  properly  a  subject  for  justice,  were  saved 
through  the  great  sacrifice,  it  must  be  only  of  God's 
good  pleasure.  Though  I  dwelt  then  continually 
upon  the  Saviour's  death,  as  the  only  thing  that  made 
salvation  possible,  I  felt  after  all,  that,  as  an  indi- 
vidual, I  depended  on  God's  sovereign  determination. 
Oh,  how  I  bowed  before  His  sovereignty !  how 
I  acknowledged  from  my  heart  His  right  to  do  as  He 
pleased  with  me  !  how  I  humbled  myself,  and  cut 
myself  loose  from  every  thing  but  His  sovereign 
pleasure  !  But  here  came  in  for  my  relief  all  that  I 
knew,  and  all  that  the  Scriptures  testify,  of  His  nature, 
as  inclined  to  mercy,  as  full  of  love,  as  not  willing  that 
any  should  perish,  &c.  Oh,  the  sweetness  of  those 
innumerable    passages,    which    give    this   account   of 


LETTERS.  85 

Him.  I  preferred,  therefore,  lying  in  His  sovereign 
hands,  to  putting  in  any  plea  or  claim  founded  even 
on  the  great  sacrifice.  I  rather  asked  that  He  w^ould 
embolden  me  to  make  that  claim  ;  that,  having  given 
His  Son  to  die  for  me,  He  w^ould  now,  of  the  same 
free  goodness,  give  His  Spirit  to  inspire  me  with  faith, 
and  make  the  work  of  Christ  effectual  in  me.  Here 
is  where  I  stand,  or  rather  lie,  at  present. 

"  I  have  no  dependence  but  upon  God's  forgiveness 
of  my  sin  through  the  atonement.  But  my  peace  is 
without  interruption.  My  sufferings  increase,  but  so 
does  the  strength  by  which  I  am  supported,  which  I 
am  sure  is  exhaustless.  '  Whom  He  loveth  He  chas- 
teneth,'  satisfies  every  doubt,  and  gives  a  kind  of  pleas- 
ure to  the  pain.  I  love  to  endure  what  His  loving 
hand  lays  upon  me.  My  sky  seems  more  cloudless 
as  I  advance.  The  everlasting  love  illumines  alike 
both  worlds.  In  our  Father's  house  are  many  man- 
sions." 


SERMONS, 


I. 

THk  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON. 

**  The  \ingdom  of  Heaven  is  like  unto  a  certain  king;  which 
yiade  a  marriage  for  his  son."  —  Matt.  xxii.  2. 

TN  Oriental  poetry,  a  specimen  of  which  we 
have\  in  the  45th  Psalm,  the  union  of  a  ruler 
with  his  Wbjects  is  sometimes  treated  as  if  it  were 
a  marriage  union,  the  nation  being  the  bride  and 
the  prince\the  bridegroom.  Whatever  might  have 
been  the  oVigin  of  this  conception,  in  the  actual 
relations  anu  intercourse  of  such  parties  there  is 
generally  bu\  little  correspondence  with  the  figure. 
But  in  the  Kingdom,  the  advent  of  which  was 
announced  b\  the  Messiah,  particularly  in  its 
final  consummation,  this  conception  shall  be  fully 
realized.  It  isVio  mere  figure  or  fiction,  that  the 
King  of  heaven  \as  made  a  marriage  for  his  Son. 
What  is  the  gospel  but  a  Divine  solicitation  for 
the  hand  of  humanity? 

Every  individual  \oul,  which  truly  responds  to 
this  soHcitation,  becofaes  thereby  a  member  of  that 


go  SERMONS. 

holy  community  which,  in  the  winding-up  of 
the  affairs  of  Time,  shall  be  presented  to  the 
universe  as  the  bride,  the  Lamb's  wife,  the  ob- 
ject of  his  chief  affection  and  the  partner  of  his 
royal  honors.  Then  it  is  that  the  marriage  shall 
be  celebrated,  for  which  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel  through  all  the  intervening  ages  has  been 
the  grand  preparation.  Then,  when  the  number 
of  the  elect  shall  be  finished,  when  the  redeemed 
from  the  earth  out  of  every  kindred  and  tr'be  and 
nation  shall  be  fully  gathered,  then  shall  te  heard 
in  heaven  the  voice  of  a  great  multitude,  as  the 
voice  of  many  waters  and  of  mighty  thunderings, 
saying,  "  Let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice,  and  ^ive  honor 
to  Him;  for  the  marriage  of  the  Lamo  is  come, 
and  His  Bride  hath  made  herself  ready."  In  mak- 
ing ready  the  Bride,  in  preparing  for  this  scene  of 
unimaginable  bliss,  the  gospel,  as  wehave  already 
intimated,  is  the  great  instrumentaliy.  The  gos- 
pel declares  the  terms  of  this  unbn  on  the  part 
of  God,  and  furnishes  the  motive  :o  their  accept- 
ance on  the  part  of  man.  The  subject,  then,  to 
which  I  shall  ask  your  attention,  is  the  instrumen- 
tality of  the  gospel  in  effecting  a  heart  reconcili- 
ation between  God  and  man.  As  reconciliation 
supposes  a  previous  but  brok:in  union,  to  explain 
the  nature  of  that  union,  the  union  originally  ex- 


THE  MARRIAGE   OF   THE  KING'S  SON.  91 

isting  between  the  soul  and  God  shall  be  our  first 
object. 

The  original  relation  of  the  soul  to  God  was 
not  the  relation  of  a  subject  to  a  governor,  nor  of 
a  servant  to  a  master.  It  was  not  what  we  call  a 
law  relation,  but  wholly  a  love  relation,  the  dis- 
tinction between  which  consists  in  this, — that,  in 
the  latter,  the  first,  last,  and  only  aim  of  the 
Higher  party  is  to  promote  the  happiness  of  the 
object  loved.  In  a  law  relation,  on  the  contrary, 
His  supreme  and  most  manifest  regard  is  to  His 
own  rights,  honor,  and  authority.  In  a  purely 
love  relation,  obedience  is  never  sought  to  be 
secured  by  an  exhibition  of  authority,  exciting, 
in  the  inferior  party,  an  apprehension  of  penalty. 
That  was  the  curse  which  sin  brought  with  it. 
The  obedience  of  the  soul  was  prompted  purely 
by  love,  or  by  a  sense  of  God's  infinite  afiection. 
And  in  this  consisted  its  original  integrity  :  it  was 
the  reign  of  legitimate  love.  And  that  is  what 
is  meant  by  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  or  the  rule 
of  heaven.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  not  any 
visible  social  organization :  it  is  the  reign  of 
purity ;  that  is,  of  legitimate  love  in  the  individ- 
ual soul.  The  force  of  the  word  "legitimate" 
will  be  better  understood  when  we  consider,  sec- 
ondly, the  manner  and  circumstances  of  the  fall. 


92 


SERMONS. 


To  this  purpose  we  observe,  that,  as  the  soul 
was  made  to  find  her  happiness  in  loving,  and 
her  highest  happiness  in  loving  God,  she  was  so 
made,  also,  in  His  wondrous  beneficence,  as  to  be 
capable  of  an  inferior  but  yet  a  most  heart-felt  en- 
joyment in  the  communications  of  creatures.  In 
giving  Himself  to  her,  God  gave  her,  also,  a 
magnificent  endowment  out  of  Himself. 

"The  heaven,  even  the  heavens,  are  the  Lord's  : 
but  the  earth  hath  He  given  to  the  children  of 
men."  —  "Thou  madest  him  a  little  lower  than 
the  angels ;  thou  crownedest  him  with  glory  and 
honor ;  thou  hast  put  all  things  in  subjection 
under  his  feet."  Such  was  the  condition  of  the 
soul  on  the  day  of  its  creation ;  endowed  with  a 
terrestrial  paradise,  —  that  is,  with  every  means 
of  worldly  gratification,  —  and  this  was  the  occa- 
sion of  its  fall.  You  may  wonder,  indeed,  how 
this  gross,  material  world  could  tempt  this  son 
and  heir  of  the  Eternal ;  how  the  soul,  born  with 
the  high  capacity  for  union  with  the  Divine,  and 
actually  standing  in  the  Divine  fellowship,  could 
yield  to  so  base  a  competitor.  But  consider  how 
the  temptation  prevailed.  Was  it  through  the 
mere  violence  of  natural  desire,  overbearing  all 
regard  to  the  commands  of  the  Creator?  Was 
the  fall  the  effect  of  a  bold,  deliberate  act  of  trans- 


THE   MARRIAGE    OF    THE  KING'S   SON.  93 

gresslon?  Why,  sin,  even  in  our  fallen  state,  does 
not  begin  in  that  way,  though  that  is  the  end  of 
it.  It  begins  in  this  way  :  God  is  too  good  to 
inflict  so  great  a  penalty  for  so  small  a  deviation. 
Can  He  consign  me  to  death  for  desiring,  only  a 
little  too  eagerly,  a  gratification,  for  which  the 
nature  He  has  given  me  was  evidently  made? 
Can  He  mean  that  my  life  should  be  a  bondage, 
—  a  perpetual  struggle  between  inclination  and 
duty?  Rather  let  me  believe  that,  in  my  sim- 
plicity, I  have  misunderstood  the  nature  of  the 
prohibition  ;  and  very  certainly  He  does  not  mean 
that  an  action  in  itself  of  so  Httle  consequence 
should  be  followed  by  such  evil  results  as  those 
which  I  have  apprehended.  How,  in  fact,  can  I 
so  well  manifest  my  confidence  in  His  goodness, 
my  gratitude  for  the  many  prerogatives  with 
which  His  royal  munificence  has  endowed  me ; 
how  so  well  my  contentment  with  His  authority, — 
as  by  shaking  off  the  bondage  of  a  fearful  spirit, 
and  indulging  that  desire  for  an  earth-born  hap- 
piness, which  is  a  part  of  my  nature,  not  accord- 
ing to  any  statute  of  limitations,  but  in  the 
exercise  of  a  free  intelligence? 

Let  the  catastrophe,  in  that  case,  be  our  warn- 
ing. Yielding  to  the  tempter,  the  presence  of 
God  immediately  departed  from  the  soul.     Fallen 


94 


SERMONS. 


into  a  law  relation,  God  has  become  the  subject 
of  her  settled  distrust.  But  still  true  to  the  orig- 
inal law  of  finding  her  happiness  in  loving,  noth- 
ing remains  now  but  for  the  soul  to  make  the 
most  of  that  which  is  offered,  in  a  love  relation, 
or,  properly  speaking,  a  lust  relation,  with  that 
inferior  and  transitory  good  by  which  she  was 
seduced  from  her  pristine  purity. 

This  is  the  condition  of  the  soul  at  present. 
Once  th^  joy  of  the  Creator's  bosom,  and  the 
image  of  His  perfection,  she  is  now  led  captive 
by  the  arts  of  the  great  seducer.  Her  affections, 
so  ennobled  originally  by  their  conscious  alliance 
with  the  All-Good  and  the  All-Fair,  and  so  happy 
in  the  prospect  of  an  interminable  bloom,  are  now 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  ever  pursuing  an  illu- 
sion,—  a  known  illusion,  for  the  most  part,  —  or 
at  once  yielding  to  despair.  In  a  word,  if  we 
may  credit  the  statements  of  inspiration,  and  be 
allowed  to  draw  an  illustration  from  some  of  its 
various  imagery,  the  difference  between  the 
actual  condition  of  the  soul,  and  that  in  which 
it  stood  when  it  first  came  from  the  hand  of 
its  Creator,  —  or  rather  from  His  bosom,  for 
are  we  not  His  offspring?  —  is  just  the  differ- 
ence between  a  perfectly  filial  youth,  to  whom 
his  father  might  have  said,  "  Son,  thou  art  ever 


THE  MARRIAGE    OF    THE  KING'S   SON.  95 

with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine;"  and 
that  same  youth,  when,  at  another  period  of  his 
history,  he  would  fain  have  filled  his  belly  with 
the  husks  which  the  swine  did  eat ;  or,  to  go  a 
degree  lower,  between  the  woman,  crowned  with 
the  honors  and  exulting  in  the  joys  of  the  new- 
made  bride,  and  the  same  woman  lost  to  the  glory 
and  the  peace  of  innocence. 

The  gospel  is  the  instrumentality  by  which 
this  condition  is  reversed ;  by  which  the  whole 
evil  of  the  fall  is  repaired ;  by  which  the  power 
of  a  seducing  world  is  entirely  broken,  and  the 
soul  reunited  in  its  ancient  bonds  to  her  true  hus- 
band. 

And  what  is  the  gospel?  When  the  new  Jeru- 
salem shall  come  down  out  of  heaven,  prepared 
as  a  bride  adorned  for  her  husband,  and  it  shall 
be  asked,  "Who  are  these  that  are  arrayed  in 
white  robes,  and  whence  come  they?"  the  re- 
sponse shall  be,  "These  are  they  which  came  out 
of  great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes 
and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 
Though  a  multitude  which  no  man  can  number, 
with  one  voice  they  ascribe  the  purity  which  fits 
them  for  the  heavenly  bridal,  to  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain.  In  the  symphony  which  bursts  from 
the  full  communion  of  the  blessed,  "Worthy  is 


96  SEEMOXS. 

the  Lamb  that  was  slain,"  we  have  the  answer 
to  the  question,  What  is  the  gospel?  It  is  simply 
the  doctrine  of  expiation  and  of  sanctihcation  by 
the  blood  of  Jesus.  To  describe  the  inward  pro- 
cess by  which  this  doctrine  restores  the  soul  to 
purity  and  to  heaven,  shall  be  the  object  of  our 
further  remarks. 

The  first  thing  that  is  done  on  the  part  of  God, 
in  the  execution  of  His  gracious  purpose,  is  to 
send  a  message  to  the  soul,  announcing  that  the 
breach  is  not  past  healing  ;  that  a  reconciliation  is 
possible,  the  first  condition  of  which  is,  that  she 
must  forsake  the  world  immediately,  and  return 
to  her  true  husband.  So  sincere,  so  anxious,  we 
may  say,  is  His  desire  for  the  soul's  return,  that, 
not  content  with  despatching  a  single  message,  He 
sends  her  line  upon  line,  servant  after  servant, 
rising  up  early  and  sending  them,  saying,  Return 
from  your  evil  ways.  Some  of  these  servants,  in 
fact.  He  has  organized  into  a  standing  ministry, 
— well  called  a  ministry  of  reconciliation, — whose 
whole  business  it  is  to  wait  upon  the  soul  through 
all  the  period  of  her  probation,  to  argue  with  her, 
endeavoring  to  convince  her  what  a  folly  she  has 
committed,  what  a  delusion  to  make  a  God  of  this 
poor  world ;  to  remind  her  of  the  happy  and  hon- 
orable state  from  which  she  has  fallen,  and  which 


THE  MARRIAGE   OF   THE  KING'S  SON.  97 

she  may  yet  recover,  —  for  they  are  directed  al- 
ways to  conclude  with  the  assurance  that,  notwith- 
standing all  her  folly  and  all  her  guilt,  the  door 
to  a  reunion  is  yet  open,  and  will  be  until  a  cer- 
tain hour :  an  hour,  the  date  of  which  not  being 
precisely  fixed,  the  soul  is  at  liberty  to  consider  as 
either  near  or  distant.  But,  to  give  the  greater 
force  to  the  language  of  entreaty,  she  is  distinctly 
forewarned  that  there  is  an  hour  which  fixes  the 
limit  of  her  Lord's  forbearance,  and  of  her  proba- 
tion,—  an  hour  beyond  which  the  world  can  no 
longer  hold  her,  nor  she  the  world,  when  at  mid- 
night a  cry  shall  be  heard.  Behold,  the  bridegroom 
Cometh  !  Of  the  manner  in  which  this  message  is 
received  by  the  many  who  are  called,  it  is  not  our 
business,  at  present,  to  speak.  Only  to  observe,  in 
passing,  that  they  make  light  of  it,  and  go  their 
ways,  —  one  to  his  farm,  another  to  his  merchan- 
dise. For  no  great  pleasure  here  upon  the  earth, 
— for  the  enjoyment  of  a  landed  estate,  a  property 
already  attained,  or  in  the  hope  of  acquiring  such 
a  property  by  success  in  merchandise,  —  they  de- 
spise the  joy  of  an  everlasting  bridal,  and  the 
glory  of  an  eternal  crown.  The  man  who,  for  such 
a  dream  as  a  title  in  heaven,  would  sacrifice,  or 
even  hazard,  any  worldly  possession,  whilst  re- 
taining   ever    so  litde   capacity  for  holding  and 


p8  SERMONS. 

enjoying  it,  by  the  general  voice  is  pronounced  a 
fool.  He  who,  in  his  zeal  for  such  a  faith,  dares 
to  encounter  the  world's  persecution,  makes  for 
himself  the  reputation  of  a  fanatic.  The  general 
effect  of  the  message  upon  the  wanton  soul  is  to 
increase  her  wantonness.  The  whole  comfort 
which  she  takes  from  it,  is  that  which  is  contained 
in  the  intimation  that  her  lord  delayeth  his  com- 
ing. How  active  is  her  fancy  in  stretching  that 
period  to  its  utmost  conceivable  limit !  how  exu- 
berant in  filling  it  with  images  of  worldly  bliss, 
with  scenes  which  derive  all  their  enchantment 
from  the  absence  of  her  Lord,  and  want  nothing 
to  make  it  a  perfect  heaven  but  the  assurance 
that  He  will  never  come  to  interrupt  her  pleasure  ! 
But  of  these  it  is  not  our  business,  at  present,  to 
speak. 

It  is  of  those  whose  better  sensibilities  have  been 
awakened  ;  of  those  in  whom  the  doctrine  of  the 
message,  corresponding  with  a  soul-felt  want, 
becomes  an  inward  call  which  they  cannot  resist, 
which  they  would  fain  obey. 

What  is  that  want?  It  begins  in  a  sense  of  the 
unsatisfying  nature  of  worldly  good  ;  in  a  dim  ap- 
prehension that  the  soul,  in  seeking  it,  is  but  wan- 
dering more  and  more  from  its  highest  sphere,  and 
that  substantial  happiness  can  only  be  obtained  by 


THE   MARRIAGE    OF    THE  KING'S   SON.  99 

turning  back  and  seeking  first,  reconciliation  with 
God.  Under  this  conviction  she  turns  back.  But 
soon  she  meets  an  invincible  difficulty  in  the  law 
relation,  under  which  she  has  fallen  ;  a  difficulty  of 
which  she  has  but  little  consciousness,  while  still 
blinded  by  the  attractions  of  the  world,  and  de- 
ceived by  its  fair  promises.  But  let  the  world  be- 
come dark,  entirely  dark;  let  that  be  fulfilled  in 
the  soul  which  is  described  by  the  prophets  :  "  She 
weepeth  sore  in  the  night,  and  her  tears  are  on 
her  cheeks  :  among  all  her  lovers  she  hath  none  to 
comfort  her  :  all  her  friends  have  dealt  treacher- 
ously with  her,  they  are  become  her  enemies,"  — 
then  shall  she  say,  "  I  will  go  and  return  to  my 
first  husband,  for  then  it  was  better  with  me  than 
now ; "  that  is,  her  vital  union  with  the  world 
being  broken,  let  her  seek  a  similar  union  with 
the  God  she  has  forsaken,  and  in  that  law  rela- 
tion, which  had  hitherto  been  only  a  little  irk- 
some, by  no  means  very  painful  or  burthensome, 
she  will  find  the  root  of  all  her  misery. 

This  soul  may  have  turned  back  a  hundred 
times  ;  and  a  hundred  times,  from  not  meeting  the 
response  which  she  expected,  she  has  been  forced 
to  seek  her  happiness  again  in  the  embrace  of  the 
world.  The  cause  of  these  disappointments  has 
been  her  supposing  that  God  still  stood  to  her  in 


lOO  SERMONS. 

a  law  relation,  —  any  other  she  was  incapable  of 
conceiving  ;  that,  God  being  angry  with  her  for 
her  worldly  dalliances,  she  could  win  back  His 
favor  only  by  her  strenuous  repentances,  by  her 
legal  efforts  to  obey  His  requirements.  The  result 
of  all  these  efforts  has  been,  that,  receiving  no  sign 
of  the  Divine  acceptance,  no  inward  testimony 
that  God  is  reconciled,  her  bondage  to  the  world 
is  as  fixed  as  ever.  Do  what  she  may,  there 
always  remains  a  deep,  unconquerable  misgiving 
as  to  the  heart  of  the  offended  party.  The  reason 
is  obvious.  The  heart  has  departed  from  its 
rightful  husband ;  and,  if  infidelity,  even  in  hu- 
man relations,  is  esteemed  a  crime  of  such  a 
nature  that  a  reparation  can  scarcely  ever  be 
made  for  it,  what  wanderer  from  God,  however 
he  may  long  to  return  or  strive  to  return,  can 
ever  hope  for  the  smallest  expression  of  that 
heart-felt  kindness  which  is  only  the  blissful  re- 
ward of  purity? 

We  are  now  prepared  to  describe  the  process 
by  which  the  gospel  is  effectual  to  this  purpose. 
Great  as  the  difficulties  are  which  prevent  the 
soul's  return  to  God,  arising  from  her  inveterate 
worldliness,  those  which  eternal  morality  inter- 
posed to  prevent  God's  returning  to  her,  were  of 
a  far  more  serious  character.  It  is  very  conceivable 


THE  MARRIAGE   OF   THE  KING'S  SON.  lOI 

that  a  man  might  have  so  much  love  for  a  ruined 
wife,  that  he  would  die  to  recover  her  to  happi- 
ness, who  yet  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  a  re- 
union with  her,  for  the  reason,  that  such  a  meas- 
ure, without  exalting  her,  except  in  an  outward 
way,  would  but  degrade  him  to  her  own  level. 
Such,  according  to  the  Christian  scheme,  was 
God's  love  to  the  sinning  soul,  that,  in  the  person 
of  His  Son,  He  did  die  ;  but,  in  so  doing,  He  not 
only  gave  an  expression  to  His  love,  which  is  but 
one  part  of  the  meaning  of  the  atonement,  but  He 
made  it  a  moral  thing,  —  moral  on  both  sides,  — 
that  the  law  relation  should  be  entirely  buried, 
and  the  love  relation  immediately  revived.  This 
is  the  gospel.  The  doctrine  which  contains  as 
in  a  seed  the  whole  vitality  of  revealed  religion, 
—  the  doctrine  which  distinguishes  the  gospel  of 
God  from  every  ethical  system  of  rational  or 
human  origin,  —  is  simply  the  doctrine  of  ex- 
piation by  the  blood  of  Jesus, — the  doctrine 
of  the  death  of  the  law  relation  which  had 
existed  between  God  and  man,  and  of  its  re- 
organization between  God  and  his  co-equal 
Son,  who,  assuming  humanity,  has  fulfilled 
all  its  responsibilities,  both  of  suffering  as  an 
expiation  for  transgression,  and  of  obedience  as 
a  title  to  unchanging  respect  and  favor.     That 


I02  SERMONS. 

gospel  which  meets  the  soul-felt  want  of  universal 
humanity,  which  awakens  all  its  hopes  and  in- 
spires all  its  efforts,  is  contained  essentially  in 
this  doctrine,  —  that  sinners  of  mankind  are  jus- 
tified, that  is  regarded  and  treated  as  righteous, 
are  not  merely  delivered  from  condemnation,  but 
receive  a  full  legal  title  to  glorification,  not  in 
virtue  of  their  own  personal  righteousness,  but  in 
virtue  of  the  righteousness  of  another,  the  whole 
benefit  of  which  they  obtain  by  simply  trusting 
it.  "  But  to  him  that  worketh  not,  but  believeth 
on  him  that  justifieth  the  ungodly,  his  faith  is 
counted  for  righteousness,"  and  obtains  for  him, 
through  the  satisfaction  which  has  been  rendered 
to  the  Lord  by  another,  a  full  title,  and  what 
Adam  had  not  in  Paradise,  a  sure  and  indefeasi- 
ble title  to  all  the  benefits  which  are  due  to  a  per- 
fect legal  or  personal  obedience. 

I  am  far  from  saying,  that  it  is  under  this 
full  conception  of  the  nature  of  the  gospel,  that 
the  few  who  are  chosen  find  their  encourage- 
ment to  becfin  the  work  of  salvation.  I  have 
stated  the  truth  in  all  its  fulness,  as  it  is  af- 
firmed in  the  Scriptures  and  confirmed  by  ma- 
ture experience.  But  a  spark  of  it  is  enough  to 
light  the  lamp  of  hope  in  many  a  soul,  and  to  in- 
itiate a  preparation  for  meeting  the  Bridegroom. 


THE   MARRIAGE    OF    THE  KING'S   SON.  1 03 

Enough  that  the  title  to  Heaven  has  been  se- 
cured :  it  only  remains  to  acquire  the  fitness  for 
it.  What  is  that  fitness?  What  can  it  be  but 
sanctification?  We  proceed  to  show  that  sanc- 
tification,  alike  with  justification,  —  the  fitness  for 
Heaven  as  well  as  the  title  to  it,  —  comes  only 
through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  The  first  use 
of  the  term  "sanctify"  which  occurs  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  which  has  reference  to  persons,  is 
where  it  is  commanded  that  the  first-born  of  the 
Israelites  in  Egypt  should  be  sanctified,  separated 
from  the  service  of  their  parents,  and  from  all 
worldly  employments,  and  consecrated  to  the 
peculiar  service  of  Jehovah,  — that  is,  sanctified. 
In  process  of  time,  this  order  was  commuted  ;  and 
in  place  of  the  first-born  of  the  whole  nation,  one 
of  its  tribes,  the  tribe  of  Levi,  was  accepted  as  a 
substitute.  The  occasion  and  manner  of  that 
sanctification  were  this  :  God  in  judgment  had  re- 
solved upon  the  destruction  of  all  the  first-born  of 
the  Egyptians.  But,  meaning  to  spare  the  first- 
born of  the  Israelites,  who  were  mingled  with  the 
Egyptians,  He  directed  that  a  lamb  should  be 
slain  in  every  family,  and  that  the  blood  of  this 
lamb  should  be  sprinkled  with  a  bunch  of  hyssop 
on  the  lintel  and  door-posts  of  every  Israelite's 
house,  that  when  the  angel  of  the  Lord  passed 


I04  SERMONS. 

through  the  land  to  smite  the  Egyptians,  this 
sign  might  be  a  protection  to  those  whom  it  was 
intended  to  spare.  Those  who  were  thus  sym- 
bolically redeemed  by  blood,  were  ordered  to  be 
sanctified  or  to  be  considered  holy  unto  the  Lord. 

Every  one  sees  that  this  must  have  been  the 
symbol  of  a  higher  redemption  and  a  higher 
sanctification.  The  apostle  Paul,  referring  to 
the  whole  Jewish  ritual,  of  which  this  was  but 
the  beginning,  and  in  which  every  thing  was 
purified  by  blood,  has  this  expression :  "  For 
if  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats  sanctifieth  to 
the  purifying  of  the  flesh,  how  much  more  shall 
the  blood  of  Christ,  who,  through  the  eternal 
Spirit,  offered  himself  without  spot  to  God,  purge 
your  conscience  from  dead  works  (that  is,  from 
law  works,  works  which  have  no  life  in  them),  to 
serve  the  living  God ; "  from  which,  without  any 
further  citations  (though  the  number  of  cor- 
roborating testimonies  is  unlimited),  we  gather 
this  proposition,  — that  sanctification,  like  justifi- 
cation, is  essentially  the  effect  of  faith  in  the 
great  sacrifice. 

The  blood. of  Christ  trusted  in,  has  a  twofold 
effect,  —  an  effect  upon  the  mind  of  God  toward 
us,  and  an  effect  upon  our  minds  toward  Him. 
The  effect  of  faith  upon  the  mind  of  God  toward 


THE  MARRIAGE    OF   THE  KING'S  SON. 


105 


US,  we  call  Justification,  —  its  effect  upon  our 
minds  toward  Him,  we  call  Sanctification. 

Sanctification,  then,  under  the  New  Testament, 
is  that  inward  and  voluntary  devotion  of  a  soul 
to  God,  to  which  it  is  naturally  and  necessarily 
prompted  by  the  apprehension  of  God's  love  to  a 
sinful  world,  —  of  which  the  atonement  of  Christ 
is  both  the  expression  and  the  justification.  This 
love,  self-appropriated  (which  is  Faith),  redeem- 
ing the  soul  from  the  curse  of  a  law  relation, 
breaks  the  power  both  of  earth  and  hell,  re- 
deems it  to  the  love  and  service  of  God.  Just  in 
so  far  as  a  soul  is  conscious  of  a  deliverance  from 
the  curse  of  the  law  relation,  through  the  inter- 
vention of  that  Sacrifice,  it  sanctifies  itself,  — 
consecrates  itself  to  God. 

Sanctification  is  thus  the  natural  and  necessary 
effect  of  a  free  justification  ;  growing  out  of  it,  just 
as  the  branches  of  a  living  vine  grow  out  of  their 
parent  stock.  From  the  very  nature  of  our  rela- 
tions to  God,  a  soul  that  has  sinned  cannot  re- 
turn, cannot  put  forth  the  first  act  of  acceptable 
obedience  until  the  power  of  a  free  justification 
has  been  felt  in  the  conscience ;  and  vice  versa, 
from  the  moment  that  that  power  begins  to  oper- 
ate in  the  conscience,  according  to  the  strength 
of  assurance  whicli  is  thus  imparted,  the  whole 
man  is  drawn  back  to  holiness. 


I06  SERMONS. 

And  now,  let  us  test  this  principle  by  a  direct 
application.  Tell  me,  my  friends,  what  is  it 
which  those  hearts  of  yours,  even  though  many 
of  you  are  yet  so  young,  have  been  seeking  for 
long  years,  and  are  seeking  still,  and  must  seek 
for  ever?  Do  you  say,  as  with  more  or  less  qual- 
ification all  of  you  will  have  to  say,  the  love  of 
creatures?  But,  if  that  be  true,  is  it  not  made 
true  mainly  by  the  fact,  that  the  offer  of  a 
higher  fellowship  has  never  been  distinctly  made 
to  you,  so  distinctly  that  you  could  fully  ap- 
propriate and  entirely  depend  upon  it  ?  You 
have  had  the  idea,  perhaps,  that  the  fellowship 
which  God  offers  you  in  the  gospel  is  bur- 
thened  with  conditions.  But  suppose  you  could 
be  persuaded  that  this  was  an  entire  miscon- 
ception ;  that  the  primary  requirement  of  the 
gospel  is  not  that  you  should  love  Him,  but  that 
you  should  repose,  with  unchanging  confidence, 
on  the  assurance  of  His  love  to  you  :  no  love  or 
service  being  desired  or  expected  of  you  but  such 
as  this  faith  will  spontaneously  generate,  the  real 
demand  being  for  faith,  and  for  faith  alone,  — 
faith  in  His  love  under  all  possible  conditions? 
Tell  me,  farther,  are  you  not  conscious  that  your 
deepest  want  is  not  of  affection  merely,  but  of 
affection  combined  with  purity,  —  the  love  of  a 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF   THE  KING'S   SON.  IO*J 

higher  nature,  but  of  a  nature  which,  in  loving, 
will  purify  and  exalt  you?  It  is  not  peace  simply 
that  you  seek,  but  peace  and  purification.  By 
a  necessity  which  no  power  of  will  can  change, 
your  heart  —  having  been  made  distrustful  by  sin 
of  the  only  Being  whose  love  can  satisfy  you  — 
is  ever  tempted  to  seek  a  substitute  in  visions  of 
earthly  bliss,  which,  however  warmly  you  pursue, 
you  know  you  can  never  embrace.  Were  it  but 
possible  that  that  higher  nature,  without  any 
degradation  to  itself,  could  embrace  you  just  as 
you  are,  and  hold  you  in  its  embrace  till  you  were 
completely  purified  !  Oh,  could  the  All-Good  and 
the  All-Fair  but  give  you  the  assurance  that  He 
would  descend  to  you  in  your  unhappy  state,  and 
love  you  with  a  love  that  should  never  change  ! 
Not  content  with  a  verbal  assurance  of  this  by 
the  mouth  of  a  messenger,  should  He  come  Him- 
self in  the  likeness  of  your  own  sinful  flesh,  and, 
first,  to  remove  that  greatest  hindrance  to  an  en- 
trance into  the  Holiest,  which  arises  from  an 
ever-accusing  conscience,  should  He  make  His 
own  soul  an  expiatory  offering  for  all  your  sin,  past 
and  future,  in  this  respect,  by  that  one  offering 
perfecting  you  for  ever, — tell  me,  I  say, —  if 
these  views,  which  you  must  perceive  contain  the 
quintessence  of  the  gospel,  instead  of  being  mere 


I08  SERMONS. 

theory,  were  to  become  a  vital  reality,  which 
they  will  become,  exactly  in  proportion  as  you 
act  upon  them,  —  could  you  refrain  from  saying, 
with  the  fallen  Peter,  "Thou,  who  knowest  all 
things,  knowest  that  I  love  Thee  "  ?  Depend  upon 
it,  that  this  susceptibility  to  the  claims  of  Christ 
upon  our  supreme  affection,  which  is  always  the 
consequence  of  a  free  justification,  is  the  kernel 
of  the  whole  matter.  Sanctification  is  nothing  else 
but  the  development  of  this  germ,  the  perfecting 
of  this  love.  And  that  is  the  end  of  our  life-trial, 
—  a  trial  upon  which  we  have  no  time  to  dwell, 
but  upon  which,  in  passing,  we  must  make  this 
single  remark,  defining  the  difference  between  it 
and  the  trial  of  our  original  humanity;  viz.,  that 
the  trial  of  our  original  humanity  was  a  trial  for 
justification,  —  a  trial  for  a  title.  In  our  case, 
on  the  contrary,  this  title  is  already  secure. 
The  title  to  justification  and  all  its  blessings, 
the  title  to  a  complete  salvation,  has  been  se- 
cured by  the  trials  of  Incarnate  love.  Our  trial 
is  merely  the  method  which  Divine  wisdom 
has  ordained  for  developing  the  principle  of 
trust,  the  seed  of  sanctification, — a  trial  which 
continues  through  our  whole  life,  and,  therefore, 
it  is  said,  "  These  are  they  which  have  come  out 
of  great  tribulation."     But  of  the  nature  of  this 


THE  MARRIAGE   OF   THE  KING'S  SON.  109 

trial  we  have  not  time,  at  present,  to  speak.  Let 
us  conclude,  then,  with  a  view  of  its  glorious 
issue.  Blessed  are  they  which  shall  enter  into 
the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb  ! 

And  to  get  a  proper  conception  of  the  scene 
which  shall  then  be  unfolded,  we  must  again 
throw  our  thoughts  back  to  the  condition  of  the 
soul  when  it  first  came  from  the  hand  of  its 
Creator ;  for  its  recovery  to  that  state  is  substan- 
tially the  issue  of  the  whole  experience.  What 
are  all  the  deeper  troubles  of  the  soul,  what  its 
profoundest  prayers,  but  a  sighing  to  recover  the 
state  into  which  it  was  originally  born,  and  for 
which  it  was  constitutionally  made?  The  univer- 
sal instinct  teaches  us  that  we  were  made  for 
love.  The  great  attraction  of  our  fallen  state  is 
the  love  of  the  creature,  and  to  this  we  cleave 
because  we  know  of  nothing  that  is  better.  But 
a  Christian  has  risen  to  the  idea  that  it  is  not  in 
all  creatures  to  give  him  this  enjoyment,  in  such 
sufficiency  and  such  purity  as  his  nature  requires. 
This  can  be  found  only  in  the  love  of  God,  —  a 
love  deep  as  the  ocean,  which  cannot  be  ex- 
hausted, and  pure  as  the  heavens,  which  nothing 
can  defile. 

This  was  the  happiness  of  the  soul  on  the  day 
of  its  creation. 


no  SERMONS. 

But  all  this  has  been  lost  by  her  fall.  By  a 
gulf  which  apparentl}^  could  never  be  passed,  by 
a  law  which  apparently  could  never  be  changed, 
the  victim  was  separated  from  the  joy  of  inno- 
cence. By  the  just  judgment  of  heaven,  the 
soul,  originally  divine,  the  joy  of  its  Creator's 
bosom  and  the  image  of  His  perfection,  seduced 
from  her  first  allegiance,  was  abandoned  to  the 
power  of  her  destroyer,  until  another  Being  — 
sometimes  called  the  Son  of  God,  because  He  is 
divine,  and  sometimes  the  Son  of  Man,  because 
He  appeared  in  our  nature — came  as  her  de- 
liverer ;  by  His  voluntary  sacrifice  propitiating  for 
her  the  powers  of  heaven,  and  by  the  infusion  of 
His  own  Spirit  gradually  reproducing  her  origi- 
nal purity.  But  her  present  condition  is  one 
often  of  the  deepest  trial :  as  a  poor  widow,  op- 
pressed by  her  adversary ;  as  a  woman  forsaken 
and  grieved  in  spirit;  as  a  wife  of  youth,  who 
has  experienced  the  bitterest  of  human  reverses, 
she  is  ever  looking  to  heaven  for  consolation,  and 
there  she  finds  it  in  the  assurance  which  the  gos- 
pel gives  her,  in  the  deep  assurance  that  her 
Maker  is  her  husband,  who  though,  for  the  trial  of 
her  constancy,  often  seeming  to  forget  her  during 
the  small  moment  of  her  wanderings  upon  earth, 
will  yet  rejoice  over  her  with  a  bridegroom's  joy, 


THE  MARRIAGE    OF   THE  KING'S  SON.  Ill 

clothing  her  with  the  garments  of  salvation  as  the 
bridegroom  decketh  himself  with  ornaments,  and 
as  a  bride  adorneth  herself  with  her  jewels.  New 
honors,  unknown  to  primal  innocence,  await  the 
soul  which  shall  be  found  faithful  at  the  last 
advent.  Not  only  shall  the  past  be  no  more  re- 
membered, not  only  shall  there  be  a  recovery  of 
the  peace  and  purity  of  paradise,  but  a  voice  from 
the  Throne  declares.  Behold,  I  make  all  things 
new  I  A  new  name,  which  the  mouth  of  the 
Lord  shall  name ;  a  new  attire,  not  merely  of 
bridal  beauty,  but  of  queenly  splendor  ;  an  inher- 
itance which  can  never  be  defiled,  and  a  glory 
which  can  never  fade, — these  are  the  rewards  of 
suffering  obedience  which  shall  be  given  when 
the  Bridegroom  cometh. 

Let  us  then  gird  up  the  loins  of  our  mind,  and 
hope  unto  the  end  for  the  grace  that  shall  be 
brought  unto  us  at  the  final  revelation,  when  the 
love  and  fidelity  of  our  heavenly  Bridegroom, 
about  which  we  shall  always  be  living  in  some 
jealousy  here,  shall  be  vindicated  by  the  fulfilment 
of  His  dearest  engagements  ;  when  the  desire  for 
us,  which  first  brought  Him  from  His  royal 
abode,  shall  be  fully  satisfied  by  making  us  par- 
takers of  His  royalty. 

When,   though  we   have   been   living   here   in 


112  SERMONS. 

such  comparative  wretchedness,  sighing  gener- 
ally under  the  sense  of  unworthiness  and  the  fear 
of  being  forsaken,  we  shall  find,  to  our  eternal  won- 
der, that,  amidst  all  our  woes  and  wanderings  on 
earth,  His  love  has  never  for  a  moment  forgotten 
us ;  and  that  now,  in  the  presence  of  the  Ancient 
of  Days,  while  thousands  of  thousands  are  minis- 
tering unto  Him,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten  thou- 
sand are  standing  around  Him,  His  chief  delight 
is  not  in  the  praises  of  the  seraphim,  but  in  the 
joy  of  His  mystic  bride,  as  above  earth's  throes 
she  stands  in  her  white  robe,  and  waves  her  ever- 
blooming  palm. 


11. 

THE    GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 

"  He  that  believeth  not  sJiall  be  damned."  —  Mark  xvi.  i6. 

TIj^OR  a  reason  which  might  be  given,  the  word 
damnation,  or  any  other  word  expressing  the 
same  idea, — the  word  hell,  for  example,  —  oc- 
curs very  seldom  in  the  preaching  or  writings  of 
the  apostles,  but  very  frequently  in  the  discourses 
of  our  Lord.  It  is  generally  true,  that  threaten- 
ings,  even  Divine  threatenings,  lose  much  of  their 
force  by  frequent  repetition.  But  coming  from 
one  who  was  not  only  inspired  to  utter,  but  com- 
missioned to  execute  them,  and  from  one  of  whom 
all  that  we  know  forbids  the  presumption  that  He 
could  have  any  pleasure  in  being  the  messenger 
of  wrath,  —  for  He  came  not  to  condemn  the 
world,  but  to  save  it,  —  coming  from  such  a  one, 
the  frequency  of  their  repetition  detracts  nothing 
from  their  solemnity. 

And  what  a  certainty  it  attaches  to  the  doctrine 
of  a  future  and  a  fearful  retribution,  that  we  have 
8 


114  SERMONS. 

it  attested  to  us  by  such  an  authority ;  that, 
from  lips  so  gracious,  there  should  have  fallen 
such  an  expression  as  the  one  contained  in  the 
text,  and  this  but  one  of  many  to  the  same 
purpose. 

Of  the  nature  of  this  retribution  it  is  not  our 
purpose,  at  present,  to  speak.  The  object  of  our 
discourse  is  to  explain  the  sin  which  provokes  it, 
—  the  sin,  rather,  of  which  damnation  is  the  ne- 
cessary consequence.  It  appears,  not  only  from 
the  text,  but  from  many  other  passages  of  our 
Lord's  discourses,  that  damnation  is  the  special 
penalty  of  unbelief;  not  of  sin  in  general,  or  of 
sin  in  any  other  of  its  various  forms,  but  of  unbe- 
lief, simply  and  exclusively.  It  belongs  to  the 
pith  of  Christianity  as  first  promulged  by  its 
Great  Teacher,  that  only  he  who  believeth  not 
shall  be  damned. 

What,  then,  is  unbelief?  and,  particularly, 
whence  arises  its  peculiar  guilt?  To  answer  this 
question  shall  be  the  object  of  our  discourse.  We 
shall  consider,  — 

1st,  What  is  unbelief,  as  distinguished  from  sin 
in  general? 

2d,  What  is  its  radical  and  universal   cause? 

3d,  How  is  it  actually  developed? 

First,  then,  what  is  unbelief  as  distinguished 


THE   GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 


115 


from  sin  in  general,  and  which  makes  it  what  sin 
in  general  is  not,  —  inevitably  damning?  It  will 
appear  incidentally  in  the  course  of  our  remarks, 
that  unbelief  is  sin  in  its  strongest  and  most  ma- 
lignant expression  ;  and,  therefore,  that  it  specially 
deserves  damnation.  And  yet  this  is  not  the 
ground  on  which  it  actually  incurs  it. 

No  sinner  shall  ever  be  damned  simply  on 
account  of  the  enormity  of  his  guilt,  for  the  pro- 
visions of  the  gospel  are  just  as  adequate  to  the 
pardon  of  the  greatest  as  of  the  least  offences. 
What  makes  unbelief,  as  distinguished  from  sin 
in  general,  inevitably  fatal,  is  the  position  in 
which  it  puts  the  sinner  with  respect  to  the  pro- 
visions of  salvation, —  a  position  in  which  they 
cannot  reach  him,  and  of  course  cannot  save 
him.  Whilst,  therefore,  men  are  condemned 
simply  on  the  ground  of  unbelief,  it  is  not,  how- 
ever, because  unbelief  is  a  sin  above  other  sins, 
—  though  it  is  so,  as  we  shall  see,  —  but  because 
by  its  very  nature  it  is  antagonistic  to  God's 
method  of  salvation. 

Let  me  give  an  illustration  which  may  show, 
in  a  popular  though  imperfect  manner,  the  rela- 
tion which  unbelief  bears  to  the  final  penalty. 
There  was  a  rebellion  going  on  for  some  years 
against    the   government   of  a    country.       How 


Il6  SERMONS. 

often,  while  this  contest  was  waging,  did  the  gov- 
ernment say  to  the  rebels,  "  If  you  will  only  lay 
down  3^our  arms,  and  return  to  your  duty  as  good 
subjects,  you  shall  have  all  the  rights  again, — 
all  the  just  rights  which  have  been  forfeited  by 
rebellion  "  !  But,  instead  of  laying  down  their 
arms,  they  only  cast  contempt  upon  the  offer  ;  and 
you  see,  at  once,  that  it  was  not  their  past  rebel- 
lion, wicked  as  that  may  have  been,  but  simply 
the  manner  in  which  they  treated  the  overture, 
which  made  their  restoration  impossible.  Not 
any  spirit  of  vengeance  on  the  part  of  the  gov- 
ernment, but  their  own  madness  and  folly,  made 
their  destruction  unavoidable. 

Sin  is  rebellion  against  the  government  of 
heaven.  The  light  of  conscience  in  every  indi- 
vidual of  the  race  testifies  that  he  is  a  party  in 
this  rebellion.  But  light  has  come  into  the  world 
from  another  quarter ;  not  from  conscience,  but 
direct  from  the  throne,  declaring  God's  purpose 
and  method  of  salvation,  —  of  which  method  the 
distinctive,  and  in  fact  the  all-comprehensive,  feat- 
ure is  expressed  by  the  term  "  grace."  So  far  as 
God's  disposition  is  concerned,  salvation  from  all 
the  consequences  of  sin  may  be  obtained  without 
the  slightest  sacrifice  from  the  party  needing  it. 
God   Himself  has  provided  the   sacrifice  which 


THE   GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF.  1 17 

enables  Him  to  offer  salvation  freely.  But  what 
is  the  spirit  with  which  men  receive  this  offer? 
With  one  consent,  they  agree  to  treat  it  as  if  it 
were  a  fiction.  They  make  light  of  it.  This  is 
what  is  meant  by  unbelief,  very  properly  so 
called,  because  unbelief  only  can  explain  such 
conduct.  It  is  inconceivable  that  men  could  thus 
treat  an  overture  of  mercy,  if  they  really  believed 
themselves  the  hell-deserving  sinners  which  the 
overture  assumes  them  to  be.  It  is  because  they 
do  not  believe  the  first  principle  on  w^hich  the 
overture  rests, — viz.,  the  atrocity  of  sin,  an  un- 
belief which,  as  we  shall  show  hereafter,  is  just 
as  wilful,  and  even  more  damnable,  than  the 
rebellion  itself,  — that  they  act,  naturally  enough, 
as  if  it  were  all  a  fiction ;  some  spurning  it 
as  though  it  w^ere  utterly  contemptible ;  others 
affecting  a  degree  of  moderation,  merely  neglect- 
ing it.  But,  in  such  a  case,  neglect  is  contempt, 
Mercy,  not  embraced  with  the  whole  heart,  is 
mercy  despised.  And,  however  to  our  eye  unbe- 
lief may  appear  to  have  various  shades  or  de- 
grees of  malignity,  not  so  to  the  eye  of  Him  from 
whom  the  overture  comes.  It  has  cost  Him  too 
much  to  make  it,  to  allow  but  one  feeling  in  His 
mind,  and  that,  a  feeling  of  unmeasured  indigna- 
tion toward  every  soul  of  man  which  refuses  to 


Il8  SERMONS. 

embrace  it.  Eternal  love,  no  less  than  eternal 
justice,  will  be  avenged  at  last  in  the  perdition, 
without  remedy,  of  every  soul  upon  which  shall 
rest  the  guilt  of  unbelief,  —  a  sin  of  more  crim- 
son dye  in  the  sight  of  heaven  than  all  the  crimes 
denounced  in  the  decalogue  ;  and  yet  of  so  little 
account  in  the  eye  of  the  guilty  part}^  that 
scarcely,  in  one  of  a  thousand,  every  one  of  them 
red  with  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God,  is  its  crim- 
inality, much  less  its  peculiar  criminality,  even  a 
matter  of  suspicion. 

But  when  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  be  revealed 
from  heaven  with  His  mighty  angels,  in  flaming 
fire,  taking  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not 
God,  and  obey  not  the  gospel,  who  shall  be  pun- 
ished with  everlasting  destruction  from  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of  His 
power;  when  He  shall  come  to  be  glorified  in 
His  saints,  and  admired  in  all  them  that  believe ; 
when  every  eye  shall  see  Him,  and  they,  also, 
which  pierced  Him,  and  all  the  kindreds  of  the 
earth  shall  wail  because  of  Him,  — then  the  guilt 
of  unbelief  shall  be  felt  in  the  woe-stricken  con- 
science to  be  all  which  the  oracles  of  heaven 
had  declared  it;  viz.,  the  guilt  of  making  God 
a  liar,  and  of  trampling  under  foot  the  blood  of 
His  Son. 


THE  GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 


119 


We  come  now  to  the  second  question.  Having 
shown  what  it  is  in  unbelief  that  distinguishes  it 
from  sin  in  general,  —  the  latter  being  simply  a 
rebellion  against  the  government  of  heaven,  the 
other  rebellion  spurning  reconciliation,  —  we  in- 
quire, secondly,  what  is  its  radical  cause, — the 
cause  which  explains  its  universality  and  its 
power,  its  stupendous  power  over  such  a  vast 
proportion  of  the  race. 

It  will  appear,  hereafter,  that  unbelief,  as  to  its 
nature,  is  a  delusion  of  the  understanding,  but  a 
wilful  delusion,  a  chosen  delusion.  Yet  no  one 
ever  chooses  a  delusion  except  under  the  pressure 
of  some  sad  necessity,  some  extreme  exigency. 
What  that  exigency  is,  which  has  occurred  to 
fallen  man  in  his  relations  with  the  government 
of  heaven,  —  an  exigency  which  is  felt  less  or 
more  by  every  individual  to  whom  the  overture 
comes,  and  which  impels  him  to  rush,  for  a  mo- 
mentary relief,  into  a  wilful  delusion, — that  exi- 
gency I  now  propose  to  describe  as  the  real  and 
radical  cause  of  all  unbelief. 

But,  to  do  this  with  clearness,  we  must  go  a 
little  further  than  we  have  yet  done  into  the  origi- 
nal controversy.  Let  us  endeavor,  then,  to  make 
a  clear  statement  of  the  whole  issue  between  the 
soul  and  God. 


I20  SERMONS. 

It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Scriptures,  that  the 
carnal  mind,  or  the  mind  previous  to  its  spirit- 
ual renovation,  is  enmity  against  God.  For  a 
particular  reason,  "it  is  not  subject  to  the  law 
of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be."  From  a  prin- 
ciple rooted  in  the  heart,  every  individual  of 
the  race  is  not,  and  until  the  ruling  affection  of 
his  nature  is  changed  cannot  be,  subject  to  the 
law  of  God.  It  being  our  object  to  make  a  clear 
statement  of  this  tremendous  issue,  it  may  be  well, 
in  passing,  to  show  what  the  issue  is  not ;  and  I 
observe,  first,  that  there  is  no  hostility  in  the  mind 
to  God,  as  He  is  revealed  in  the  laws  of  the 
natural  universe.  The  goodness  of  these  laws 
we  never  question.  The  sufferings  which  arise 
from  an  occasional  anomaly  in  the  manner  of 
their  working  are  so  far  outweighed  and  out- 
numbered by  the  blessings  perpetually  flowing 
from  their  regular  operation,  that  no  reasonable 
being  ever  thinks  of  the  Author  of  Nature  with 
any  ambiguity  of  sentiment.  For,  akhough  this 
natural  constitution  of  ours  is  found  to  contain 
the  seeds  of  pain,  disease,  and  death,  yet,  when 
we  distinguish  between  those  pains  and  diseases 
which  are  purely  natural,  and  which  cannot  be 
avoided,  and  those  which  are  the  effects  of  mad- 
ness and  folly, — between  those  evils  which  flow 


THE   GUILT   OF    UNBELIEF.  I2I 

directly  from  the  laws  of  nature,  and  those  which 
arise  from  the  wicked  abuse  of  these  laws, — 
when,  with  this  distinction  in  view,  we  consider 
how  light  and  transient  are  all  the  pains  of  the 
present  life,  in  comparison  with  the  sum  of  its 
enjoyments ;  and  then,  as  to  death  ;  when  we  re- 
flect that  there  is  nothing  in  this  natural  revela- 
tion which  forbids  the  hope  of  a  still  happier 
existence  hereafter, — no  prospect  of  a  future  reck- 
oning which  should  abate,  in  the  least,  our  pres- 
ent satisfaction,  with  so  much  to  enjoy  and  so 
little  to  apprehend  ;  —  we  see  what  reason  there  is 
that  the  soul  should  rejoice  in  nature,  and  cleave 
to  the  Author  of  nature  as  the  child  cleaves  to 
the  breast  of  its  mother.  In  fact,  the  love  which 
is  inspired  for  God,  as  He  is  presented  in  these 
revelations,  is  so  general,  and  often  so  impas- 
sioned, that,  under  the  direction  of  another  prin- 
ciple, which  is  wholly  evil,  it  tends,  as  much  as 
any  other  cause,  to  conceal  from  the  soul  its  real 
character  and  the  real  issue  between  itself  and 
heaven. 

Nor,  secondly,  in  charging  the  soul  with  enmity 
against  God,  and  especially  against  the  law  of 
God,  is  it  meant  that  men  in  general  are  hostile 
to  the  moral  law,  as  contained  in  the  ten  com- 
mandments. 


122  SERMONS. 

There  is  nothing  in  these,  in  any  or  in  the 
whole  of  them,  which  affronts  the  sensibiHties  of 
the  race.  All  of  them,  on  the  contrary,  are  in 
such  happy  accordance  with  the  interests  of  man 
as  a  social  being,  that  although  under  special 
temptations  they  are  often  violated,  yet  none 
but  the  most  stupid  or  hardened  ever  think  of 
impugning  their  beneficence.  They  may  be 
regarded  in  fact  as  the  teachings  of  nature  re- 
affirmed with  a  Divine  sanction,  and  made  the 
basis  of  the  civil  and  social  economy  of  the 
chosen  nation  of  antiquity,  from  which  they  have 
been  copied,  not  at  all  on  account  of  their  relig- 
ious contents,  but  entirely  because  of  their  benefi- 
cent bearing  upon  the  moral  and  social  interests 
of  the  race,  into  the  civil  constitution  of  Christen- 
dom. And  that  these  ten  commandments  are 
outwardly  so  generally  regarded,  and  often  so 
well  regarded,  under  the  instigation  of  self-love, 
is  another  of  the  causes  which  tend  to  disguise 
the  real  issue  between  the  soul  and  its  Maker. 

What,  then,  is  the  law  to  which  the  carnal  mind 
is  not  and,  remaining  carnal,  cannot  be  subject? 
We  must  look  for  it  in  a  wider  view  of  the  soul's 
relations  to  God,  than  is  included  within  the 
limits  of  time  and  nature.  It  is  the  law  of  the 
moral   universe,  —  a   law   which    embraces    not 


THE   GUILT  OF   UNBELIEF. 


123 


man  only,  but  the  highest  orders  of  creation. 
Whether  they  be  thrones  or  dominions,  princi- 
palities or  powers,  they  can  be  subject  to  no 
higher  responsibilities  than  those  which  result 
from  a  creation  in  the  Divine  likeness,  — a  dig- 
nity which  belongs  equally  to  man.  For  creat- 
ures made  in  the  Divine  image,  what  law  can 
there  be  but  the  Divine  example?  The  least  that 
God  can  require  of  beings  made  like  Himself  is, 
that  they  should  act  like  Himself;  that  they 
should  be  governed  in  all  their  actions  by  the 
same  principle  which  forms  the  law  of  His  own 
conduct,  and  peculiarly  of  His  conduct  toward 
them.  The  law  of  the  Divine  conduct  is  love, — 
eminently  so  with  respect  to  the  moral  universe ; 
and  this  is  the  law  which  binds  every  member 
of  that  universe,  both  in  his  relations  to  the  rest, 
and  to  the  Supreme  Ruler.  Our  concern  at 
present  is  with  the  requirements  of  this  law  upon 
man.  Endowed  with  instincts  just  as  strong  as 
those  of  the  lower  creatures,  though  immeasur- 
ably finer  and  more  complex,  and,  through 
these,  with  a  capacity  for  self-enjoyment  to  which 
there  is  scarcely  a  limit,  he  is  endowed  also  with 
a  power  of  controlling  these  instincts,  even 
self-love,  the  most  radical  of  them,  in  the  inter- 
ests of  a  love  which  is  universal.     Thus  a  foun- 


124  SEEM  ON  S. 

dation  is  laid  for  the  virtue  of  Benevolence.  Not 
from  any  expectation  of  reward,  not  from  the 
belief  that  others  will  do  in  like  manner  to  him 
(with  good  reason  he  may  have  the  contrary 
belief),  but  hoping  for  nothing  again,  and  in  op- 
position to  every  instinct  of  his  selfish  nature,  — 
to  the  love  of  property,  to  the  love  of  pleasure,  to 
the  love  of  admiration,  to  the  love  of  kindred,  to 
the  love  of  life,  to  the  love  of  self  in  short,  in  all 
its  manifold  aspects, — a  man  may  make  himself  an 
utter  sacrifice  for  the  benefit  of  his  fellows,  — not 
merely  for  the  good,  but  even  for  the  unthankful 
and  the  evil.  Under  the  influence  of  Christianity, 
that  sacrifice  has  been  made  to  the  full  extent  of 
this  description,  thousands  of  times,  —  if  it  should 
be  called  a  sacrifice, —  for  it  may  be  questioned 
whether  the  sense  of  duty  which  impels  to  it  is 
any  stronger  than  the  sense  of  pleasure  which 
accompanies  it.  And  between  them  both,  after 
it  is  all  done,  the  man  who  has  done  it  may  say, 
without  the  slightest  affectation,  "I  am  but  an  un- 
profitable servant ;  for  I  have  done  only  what  it 
was  my  duty  to  do."  Such  is  the  compass  of  the 
moral  capabilities  of  human  nature,  with  refer- 
ence only  to  the  creature.  And  if  a  man  may 
make  so  little  account  of  the  strongest  instincts 
of  his    nature,    if  he   may    make  self  a  perfect 


THE  GUILT  OF   UNBELIEF. 


125 


sacrifice,  simply  from  a  sense  of  right  or  of  duty  ; 
if  he  may  do  this  in  the  interest  of  his  fellow,  his 
equal ;  if  he  may  do  it  in  behalf  of  the  most 
worthless  of  his  species ;  if  he  may  do  it  in  the 
interest  of  his  enemy ;  in  short,  if  he  may  do  it 
in  a  case  which  presents  no  claim  whatever,  and 
no  possibility  of  recompense,  —  of  what  an  un- 
measurable  enlargement  must  this  sentiment  be 
susceptible,  when  the  object  of  it  is  the  Infinite 
God,  the  personal  embodiment  of  absolute  Per- 
fection I 

This  is  the  compass  of  man's  moral  capabilities 
with  respect  to  his  Creator;  and  this  is  what 
Heaven  demands  in  its  primal  law.  The  com- 
plete subjugation  of  the  self-principle  to  the  be- 
hests, not  of  authority,  but  of  Supreme  goodness, 
—  this  is  the  demand  of  the  primal  law. 

The  demand  of  entire  self-abnegation,  made 
in  the  original  law,  furnished  the  occasion  for 
the  rebellion.  The  same  demand  still  ^insisted 
on,  even  in  the  terms  of  reconciliation,  notwith- 
standing a  wonderful  abatement  in  man's  favor, 
furnishes  the  present  provocation  to  rush  into  the 
delusions  of  unbelief. 

What  is  that  abatement?  The  briefest  state- 
ment is  all  that  our  limits  will  allow.  But  this 
will  be  sufficient  to  present  the  whole  issue  as  it 


126  SERMONS. 

now  stands  between  earth  and  heaven,  or  between 
the  soul  and  God. 

In  a  perfect  government,  the  demands  of  law 
can  never  be  relaxed.  In  human  governments, 
where  law  is  at  best  but  a  conventional  thing, 
they  may  be,  and  often  are,  with  the  greatest 
advantage  to  the  public  good.  But  any  laxity, 
in  enforcing  the  demands  of  the  Divine  law, 
w^ould  be  an  incurable  wound  to  the  happiness  of 
the  universe.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  it 
would  be  a  wound  equally  incurable  to  the  honor 
of  the  Supreme  Ruler,  and  especially  of  His  wis- 
dom, if,  on  the  occurrence  of  transgression,  no 
way  should  appear  of  saving  the  offender  from 
the  law's  penalty.  For,  suppose  that  all  should 
fall,  —  and,  being  both  free  and  fallible,  that  was 
clearly  within  the  range  of  possibility,  —  where 
would  be  God's  kingdom?  what  security  for  the 
perpetuity  of  His  throne?  Clearly,  unless  there 
was  some  way  in  which  God  could  manifest  His 
love  to  the  fallen,  —  that  is,  some  way  by  which 
He  could  recover  the  fallen,  —  Evil  might  yet 
prove  stronger  than  God.  This,  undoubtedly,  was 
the  ambition  and  the  expectation  of  Satan  :  "  I  will 
ascend  into  heaven ;  I  will  exalt  my  throne  above 
the  stars  of  God ;  I  will  ascend  above  the  heights 
of  the  clouds ;  I  will  be  like  the  Most  High."   On 


THE   GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 


127 


what  was  this  expectation  grounded?  Clearly  on 
the  belief  so  seemingly  rational,  so  apparently  ir- 
refragable, that  God  could  not  maintain  His  law 
consistently  with  grace  to  its  violators ;  could  not 
remain  immaculately  holy,  and  yet  give  full  ex- 
pression to  His  hitherto  supposed  illimitable  love. 
Such  was  the  hope  of  the  arch-apostate  ;  and  it 
seems  but  rational  to  suppose  that  an  apprehen- 
sion of  this  nature  had  begun  to  throw  its  shadow 
over  the  ranks  of  the  unfallen.  To  demolish  by 
one  blow  the  hopes  of  the  one,  and  the  possible 
doubts  of  the  other,  to  settle  for  ever  the  foun- 
dations of  His  throne,  not  merely,  nor  perhaps 
chiefly,  to  manifest  the  immensity  of  His  love  in 
His  treatment  of  a  fallen  race,  though  doubtless 
that  was  one  of  His  motives,  —  but  to  the  intent 
that  it  might  be  known  through  the  ages  and 
through  the  hierarchies  in  heavenly  places,  that 
the  wisdom  of  God  was  equal  to  any  emergency, 
God  sent  forth  His  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made 
under  the  law,  to  redeem  them  that  were  under 
the  law.  That  the  law  has  been  more  honored 
in  the  heavenly  places  since  the  Coequal  of  God 
stooped  to  be  subject  to  it,  than  it  would  have 
been  by  the  obedience  of  the  first  Adam  and  of 
all  of  his  posterity ;  that  by  His  subjection  to  it 
and  suffering  under   it,  in  their  nature  and  in 


128  SERMONS. 

their  stead,  He  has  made  it  right  that  as  many  as 
He  chooses  to  save  should  be  absolved  from  their 
penal  liabilities ;  that  His  righteousness,  con- 
sidered simply  as  a  means  of  honoring  the  gov- 
ernment of  Heaven,  is  worth  more,  deserves  more, 
than  the  personal  righteousness  of  all  creatures, 

—  these  are  the  first  principles  of  the  oracles  of 
God.  And  what  is  the  result?  — the  result  and 
the  reward  of  this  Infinite  loyalty? 

The  Father  has  given  all  things  into  His  hands, 

—  things  in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth,  and 
things  under  the  earth.  The  things  which  were 
once  in  the  hands  of  law,  in  the  hands  of  justice, 
are  now  given  into  the  hands  of  love.  To  what 
end?  That  He  should  give  eternal  life  ;  that  He 
should  give  it,  so  far  as  the  honor  of  the  gov 
ernment  is  concerned,  without  any  conditions,  to 
all  who  will  receive  it.  Will  you  receive  it? 
That  is  the  only  question.  There  lies  the  whole 
issue  between  the  soul  and  God. 

All  depends  on  the  spirit  of  your  mind.  Whilst 
the  mind  is  carnal,  any  terms  which  a  holy  God 
might  propose,  would  be  alike  ungrateful ;  for 
any  terms  which  God  should  propose,  must  strike 
at  the  root  of  your  mortal  disease,  your  aversion 
to  His  law.  The  design  of  the  gospel  is  to  re- 
kindle your  original,  your    constitutional,   sym- 


THE   GUILT   OF    UNBELIEF. 


129 


pathy  with  the  law  of  God,  which,  you  must 
know,  is  the  ultimate  condition  of  the  happiness 
of  your  nature.  For  this  purpose,  it  removes 
every  obstacle  arising  from  the  past,  and  every 
fear  connected  with  the  future,  —  provided  there 
is  one  thing,  —  a  simple  purpose  of  the  heart, 
as  simple  as  the  opening  of  the  eye  to  the  light, 
—  a  real  purpose  of  heart,  under  the  pressure  of 
these  high  encouragements,  to  seek  after  God,  — 
a  real  purpose  of  self-crucifixion  in  the  interests 
of  a  higher  love.  That  one  thing  lacking,  then 
follows  the  exigency  to  which  I  referred,  and 
which  I  shall  now  describe,  as  the  real  radical 
cause  of  all  unbelief. 

Not  from  the  force  of  circumstances,  not  from 
any  external  necessity,  but  from  a  principle 
rooted  in  the  heart,  every  individual  of  the  race 
is  an  enemy  to  the  government  of  Heaven.  It 
is  the  enmity  of  sin  to  holiness.  The  overture 
asks  him  to  lay  aside  his  enmity,  offers  him 
pardon,  and  far  more  than  pardon,  if  he  does  so, 
with  the  alternative  of  utter  destruction  in  case 
of  refusal, — utter  destruction  by  the  law  of  his 
own  constitution.  What  shall  he  do?  For 
here,  you  will  observe,  that  sin  has  not  only 
made  a  schism  between  earth  and  heaven,  but 
it  has  made    a  schism   in  the   soul  itself. 

9 


130  SERMONS. 

If  the  will  and  affections  are  entirely  alienated, 
the  understanding  and  conscience  for  a  time  at 
least  retain  their  fidelity.  Hence  the  dilemma. 
What  shall  he  do?  It  is  a  government  which  he 
hates,  —  to  get  entirely  free  from  it  is  the  motive 
of  the  revolt.  There  is  no  hope  of  a  compro- 
,  mise.  Amnesty  for  the  past,  but  submission  for 
the  future  ;  submission  to  the  very  laws  and  re- 
strictions which  in  his  heart  he  hates, — these  are 
the  only  terms  which  the  government  can  offer. 
The  amnesty  is  well  enough,  but  how  can  he 
heartily  submit  to  the  former  government? 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  how  can  he  carry 
in  his  bosom  the  perpetual  consciousness  of  being 
at  enmity  with  Heaven?  How  can  he  endure  for 
a  single  moment  the  horrible  apparition  of  Divine 
vengeance, — made  sure  not  merely  by  the 
threatening  appended  to  the  overture,  but  by  a 
light  which  is  prior  to,  and  confirmatory  of  it,  — 
a  light  in  his  own  mind  which  testifies  that  the 
government  is  right,  that  the  guilt  of  rebellion  lies 
upon  his  soul,  and  that  wrath  is  certainly  impend- 
ing?    How  shall  he  act  in  such  circumstances? 

Between  these  mutually  opposing  forces,  hatred 
of  the  duty  and  dread  of  the  penalty,  as  long  as 
they  are  evenly  balanced  the  full  and  final  action 
of  the  soul  in  regard  to  the  overture  remains  un- 


THE  GUILT   OF    UNBELIEF.  131 

determined.  Once  rid  of  this  thick  drop  of  be- 
lieving terror  which  clogs  the  conscience,  and 
the  difficulty  is  passed.  But  how  is  he  to  get  rid 
of  it?  It  is  just  here  that  unbelief  comes  to  his 
rescue.  Pressed  on  two  sides,  — on  one  side  by- 
aversion  to  the  government,  which  makes  sub- 
mission inadmissible ;  on  the  other,  by  the 
threatened  penalty,  which  makes  resistance  most 
perilous,  —  the  party  in  rebellion  rushes  for  relief 
into  a  network  of  delusion,  the  contrivance  of  a 
common  adversary,  which,  hiding  for  the  present 
his  tremendous  danger,  beguiles  him  at  length 
into  perdition,  without  remedy. 

But  how  is  this  practicable?  Is  a  man's  belief 
dependent  on  his  will?  Can  he  believe  what  he 
chooses  to  believe?  This  brings  us  to  our  last 
question  :  How  is  unbelief  practically  developed? 
in  other  words.  What  is  unbelief,  considered  as  a 
process  of  the  mind?  We  have  seen  what  it  is 
as  a  process  of  the  heart.  But  the  heart  cannot 
accomplish  its  purpose  without  the  aid  of  a  men- 
tal delusion.  How  is  this  delusion  effected? 
Unbelief  is  an  instance,  the  highest  of  its  kind,  of 
that  very  common  fact  in  human  history,  that  in 
any  conflict  between  the  understanding  and  the 
passions,  if  the  conflict  be  protracted,  means  will 
be  found,  sooner  or  later,  of  reducing  the  better 


132  SEEM  ox  S. 

principle  to  a  state  of  subserviency.  The  conflict 
in  this  case  is  between  the  deepest  passion  of 
human  nature  and  the  law  of  God,  or  the  light 
from  God  which  condemns  it.  The  passion  is 
susceptible  of  infinite  variations  as  to  form  and 
expression,  but  its  essence  is  self-pleasing,  su- 
preme self-regard. 

This  is,  comprehensively,  the  sin  of  our  nature, 
—  the  root  of  all  other  sins,  and  the  citadel  of 
their  strength,  —  combining  the  power  of  a  set- 
tled principle  with  the  rage,  when  occasion  de- 
mands it,  of  a  furious  passion.  Domineering 
self-regard,  this  is  the  evil  against  w^hich,  as 
most  opposite  to  His  own  nature,  as  well  as  de- 
structive to  the  order  of  the  universe,  the  Holy 
One  opposes  His  everlasting  justice.  From  that 
justice,  by  an  eternal  necessity,  there  is  but  one 
way  of  escape;  viz.,  by  a  change  of  nature,  —  by 
a  moral  renovation.  For  such  a  renovation  a 
full  provision  is  made  in  the  gospel.  I  wish  to 
show  you  how,  by  a  wilful  delusion,  this  provis- 
ion is  made  ineffectual. 

The  all-absorbing  fact,  which  the  gospel  re- 
veals, is  the  advent  of  a  Being  in  our  nature, 
who  claims  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  and  the  Saviour 
of  mankind.  It  is  said.  Believe  in  Him,  and  you 
shall  be  saved.     Believe  in  what?     In  the  his- 


THE   GUILT   OF    UNBELIEF.  133 

torical  fact  of  His  appearance  in  the  flesh,  of  His 
humiHation  and  sacrifice?  In  the  doctrine,  that 
by  this  sacrifice  He  has  rolled  off  the  burthen  of 
our  sin,  and  restored  us  to  fellowship  with  God? 
Of  what  significance  is  that  fact  to  you,  unless 
your  sins  are  felt  to  be  a  burthen,  which  will 
crush  you  to  hell,  unless  you  are  delivered?  Bear 
in  mind  the  vital  connection  which  there  must  be 
between  beheving  in  Christ  as  a  Saviour,  and 
believing  in  your  own  ruin  as  a  sinner.  If  you 
cannot  see  the  atrocity  of  sin,  and  that  you  are 
the  subject  of  it  in  all  its  atrocity,  how  can  you 
attach  any  meaning  to  the  agony  of  the  Cross? 
Before  a  man  can  believe  with  the  heart  in  the 
testimony  of  the  Scriptures  concerning  Christ  and 
salvation,  he  must  believe  with  his  conscience  in 
the  testimony  of  the  same  Scriptures  concerning 
himself  and  damnation.  Who  is  it  that  tells  us 
of  destroying  soul  and  body  in  hell,  —  of  the  man 
who  lifted  up  his  eyes  in  hell,  being  in  torment, 

—  of  the  resurrection  of  damnation,  —  of  the 
worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  fire  that  shall 
never  be  quenched,  —  of  everlasting  fire,  pre- 
pared for  the  devil  and  his  angels?  and  all  this, 
if  you  will  lay  your  mind  open  to  the  testimony, 
and  especially  the  testimony  of  the  Great  Teacher, 

—  all  this,  simply  because  they  lived  to  please 
themselves. 


134  SERMONS. 

Here,  then,  is  the  point  at  which  unbelief  be- 
gins. You  have  no  difficuUy  in  accepting,  how- 
ever illogically,  the  historical  fact,  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  The  difficulty  begins  with  those  moral 
facts  which  underlie  the  historical  and  explain 
their  necessity,  —  with  those  facts  respecting  the 
nature  and  desert  of  sin,  which  rest  upon  the 
authority  of  conscience,  informed  by  revelation, 
and  which  are  fundamental  to  the  overture.  To 
accept  these,  in  connection  with  the  historical, 
would  be  equivalent  to  a  moral  renovation.  The 
acceptance  of  the  other  without  these,  i.e.,  of  the 
historical  without  the  moral,  is  simply  a  mental 
delusion,  and  a  wilful  delusion.  For  God  has 
endowed  you  with  a  spiritual  faculty,  by  which, 
if  you  will,  the  moral  truth  in  the  case  may  be 
just  as  clearly  discerned  as  the  historical. 

It  is  not  to  be  imagined,  my  hearers,  that  our 
beneficent  Creator,  who  has  not  given  being  even 
to  the  lowest  animal,  without  endowing  him  with 
a  self-preserving  instinct,  should  have  created  an 
immortal  being  without  giving  him  at  least  equal 
advantages.  Having  environed  him  with  laws 
which  cannot  be  transgressed  without  the  saddest 
effects.  He  must  have  endowed  him  with  an  in- 
stinctive perception,  both  of  the  nature   and  the 


THE   GUILT   OF    UNBELIEF.  13^ 

consequences  of  transgression,  —  not  so  instinc- 
tive as  to  supersede  the  exercise  of  reason,  and 
the  necessity  of  care  and  vigilance  and  energy ; 
but  all-sufficient  in  the  exercise  of  these  qualities 
not  only  to  have  preserved  his  original  purity, 
but  all-sufficient  still,  in  connection  with  the  pro- 
visions of  the  gospel,  to  deliver  him  out  of  all  his 
miseries. 

Therefore  it  is,  that  our  Saviour  has  placed  the 
condemnation  of  man  upon  this  ground  :  "  This," 
says  he,  "  is  the  condemnation,  that  light  has 
come  into  the  world,  and  men  loved  dark- 
ness rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds  were 
evil;  for  every  one  that  doeth  evil,"  —  who  is 
conscious  of  doing  evil,  —  "  hateth  the  light,  and 
neither  cometh  to  the  light,  lest  his  deeds  should 
be  reproved." 

Unbehef,  to  describe  it  by  a  figure,  is  the 
result  of  simply  closing  the  eye  of  the  soul 
against  the  light  which  comes  to  it  from  God.  It 
is  assumed  in  this  figure,  that  the  soul  has  an 
organ,  the  use  and  office  of  which,  in  spiritual 
concerns,  corresponds  to  that  of  the  eye  in  the 
structure  of  the  body.  We  call  this  the  eye  of 
the  soul,  because  as  in  all  its  outward  movements 
the  body  follows,  and  must  follow,  the  guidance 
of  the  eye,  so  in  all  its  spiritual  movements  the 


136  SERMONS. 

soul  follows,   and  must  follow,  the  guidance  of 
the   conscience. 

Let  us  pursue  the  illustration  one  step  farther. 
Supposing  a  transparent  atmosphere  and  an 
abundance  oi  light :  the  healthful  and  vigorous 
movement  of  the  body  under  the  guidance  of  the 
eye  depends  on  a  single  and  very  simple  con- 
dition ;  viz.,  that  the  eye  be  open.  This  is  the 
condition  upon  which  hangs  salvation, — the 
simple  condition  of  keeping  the  eye  open.  Light 
has  come  into  the  world.  Keep  the  eye  open, 
and  salvation  will  follow  as  a  necessary  conse- 
quence. Here  lies  the  only  difficulty.  Every 
thing,  my  hearers,  in  the  boundless  eternity 
which  lies  before  you,  hangs  upon  this  simple 
condition,  —  Cover  not  your  sin;  and,  as  it 
rises  before  you  in  all  its  enormity,  cast  yourself 
naked  and  helpless  on  the  word  of  the  Saviour, 
and  persist  in  doing  so  to  the  jaws  of  Death,  and 
you  will  find  yourself  in  the  arms  of  Mercy. 

Let  me  recapitulate  and  conclude. 

The  carnal  mind,  we  have  seen,  is  enmity 
against  God  because  of  His  moral  government. 
To  its  apprehension,  the  only  object  of  that  gov- 
ernment is  to  support  its  own  prerogative.  Of 
course,  such  a  government  must  be  hateful.  But 
need  I  say  that  that  apprehension  arises  entirely 


THE   GUILT    OF    UNBELIEF.  137 

from  the  consciousness  of  guilt?  Remove  that 
consciousness  by  a  free  pardon,  and  then  see  how 
the  subject  will  appear.  Who  can  believe  that 
the  Divine  government  is  a  despotism? 

Looking  at  it  in  the  light  of  a  disinthralled 
understanding,  is  it  not  obvious  that  the  govern- 
ment of  Heaven  must  be  just  what  every  benign 
government  on  earth  is,  —  viz.,  a  provision,  and 
the  best  which  could  be  made  for  the  happiness 
of  its  subjects?  By  the  government  of  Heaven 
is  meant  that  provision  which  has  been  made  by 
the  Supreme  Disposer,  not  primarily  for  the  sup- 
port of  His  own  prerogative,  but  primarily  for  the 
happiness  of  the  myriads  which  His  power  had 
brought  into  being.  Assuming  the  existence  of 
an  infinite,  all-wise,  and  benevolent  Creator,  it  is 
inconceivable  that,  as  the  Author  of  the  universe, 
He  should  not  have  made  some  simple  provision 
for  its  happiness.  This  provision  is  contained  in 
the  laws  by  which  it  is  governed,  simply  and  en- 
tirely in  its  system  of  legislation.  If  it  had  been 
the  main  purpose  of  this  discourse,  as  it  is  cer- 
tainly a  part  of  its  purpose,  to  vindicate  the 
beneficence  of  this  system,  we  should  have  begun 
with  a  cursory  view,  at  least,  of  that  part  of  it  in 
which,  though  of  the  least  significance  in  itself, 
beneficence  is  manifest  beyond  the  possibility  of 


138  SEEM  ox S. 

cavil.  I  mean  the  laws  of  the  natural  universe. 
And  now,  in  conclusion,  let  me  use  an  argument 
from  those  laws  to  abate,  if  it  may  not  entirely 
remove,  a  general  prejudice,  which  is  felt  by 
every  unreconciled  heart  in  contemplating  the 
government  of  Heaven, —  a  prejudice  which  stands 
at  the  threshold  of  all  our  difficulties.  It  is  fun- 
damental to  a  successful  pursuit  of  salvation,  that 
the  understanding  should  possess  a  satisfactory 
conviction  of  the  Divine  benignity,  including,  of 
course,  the  idea  of  justice. 

But,  in  tracing  the  workings  and  windings  of 
unbelief,  we  are  soon  brought  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  last  pillar,  on  which  it  rests  for  support, 
is  a  suspicion,  — it  cannot  be  called  a  conviction, 
for  it  relates  to  a  matter  upon  which  nothing  can 
be  logically  established;  it  can  only  proceed, 
therefore,  from  the  coldness  of  the  heart, —  it  finds, 
I  say,  its  last  refuge,  the  last  hiding-place  for  its 
shame,  in  a  cold  suspicion,  that,  in  the  primary 
laws  and  arrangements  of  the  moral  universe,  or 
of  that  part  of  the  system  which  pertains  to  the 
government  of  free  agents,  the  Supreme  Disposer 
has  acted  with  a  degree  of  unfairness,  not  to  call 
it  malevolence, — that,  in  the  constitution  given 
to  these  agents.  He  has  left,  in  the  exercise  of  His 
sovereignty,  a  point  of  weakness  which  excuses 


THE  GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 


139 


at  least,  if  it  does  not  entirely  justify,  their  subse- 
quent rebellion. 

I  appeal  to  that  light  of  reason  which,  blessed 
be  its  Author,  still  lingers  in  our  apostate  human- 
ity, to  say  how  far  it  is  probable  that  He,  who 
has  shown  such  a  marvellous  kindness  in  the  con- 
stitution of  our  lower  nature,  should  have  been 
moved  by  any  less  in  determining  the  laws  of  our 
immortal  existence.  Is  it  probable  that  He  who 
fitted  up  this  beautiful  habitation  for  the  tempo- 
rary residence  of  man,  should  have  had  any  but 
the  kindest  thoughts  in  framing  the  constitution 
of  that  higher  world,  of  which  the  present  is  but 
the  vestibule  ? 

I  call  upon  the  laws  of  nature  to  vindicate  my 
God. 

Tell  us,  ye  mute  but  mighty  agencies  in 
whose  perfect  equipoise,  and  whose  exact  revolu- 
tions, a  foundation  has  been  laid  for  the  durability 
of  this  material  system,  at  whose  command  3^e 
were  first  marshalled  to  your  spheres,  and  whose 
orders  ye  are  constantly  fulfilling?  Tell  us,  ye 
inorganic  elements  of  earth  and  air,  from  whose 
breath  ye  receive  the  virtue  which  impregnates 
the  organized  seed,  and  causes  it  to  bring  forth, 
in  boundless  profusion,  a  supply  for  the  wants 
of  the  animal  creation?    Tell  us  whence  that  law 


T4O  SER310NS. 

of  the  animal  nature,  by  which,  after  appropriat- 
ing to  its  own  use  the  riches  of  the  vegetable 
kingdom,  it  is  constrained,  with  so  little  reluctance, 
to  submit  to  the  rule,  and  to  labor  for  the  good  of 
the  rational?  Above  all,  we  call  upon  the  ra- 
tional to  answer  who  established  those  laws  of 
communication  between  the  sentient  principle 
within  him,  and  the  myriad  objects  of  the  outer 
universe,  b}^  which  all  that  is  good  and  glorious 
in  the  latter,  becomes  so  easily  his  personal,  we 
may  say  his  patrimonial,  possession.  And  those 
other  laws,  even  finer,  and  pregnant  with  a  treas- 
ure so  much  richer,  by  which  mind  communicates 
with  mind  and  soul  with  soul,  in  an  intercourse 
which,  but  for  sin,  v/ould  make  earth  the  symbol 
and  almost  the  synonyme  of  Heaven,  who  was  the 
legislator  here?  Oh  tell  me,  as  you  see  the  sun 
coming  forth  from  his  chamber,  awaking  in  every 
living  thing  the  consciousness  of  a  fresh  exist- 
ence, the  birds  filling  the  air  with  their  melody, 
the  valleys  covered  over  with  corn,  and  the  flocks 
rejoicing  on  a  thousand  hills ;  or,  when  sitting  at 
your  own  fireside,  where  every  heart  is  glowing 
with  the  raptures  of  life,  your  board  spread  with 
every  gift  of  the  season,  and  your  loved  ones  like 
olive-plants  encircling  and  adorning  it ;  or  when, 
at  the  close  of  a  day  of  toil,  the  calm  shades  of 


THE  GUILT   OF   UNBELIEF. 


141 


evening  invite  you  to  repose  from  care,  and  you 
think  of  the  unnumbered  blessings  which  the 
hours  have  scattered  in  their  flight ;  how,  at  His 
rebuke,  disease  has  fled  from  your  dwelHng,  and 
the  spirits  of  the  air  only  minister  to  your  good  ; 
how  His  skies  are  ever  dropping  down  upon  us 
the  riches  of  their  beneficence,  whilst  the  earth, 
like  a  vale  of  enchantment,  spreads  beneath  our 
feet,  —  can  you  believe, — I  appeal  to  that  sense  of 
honor  which,  with  the  light  of  reason,  still  lingers 
in  our  apostate  humanity, — that  He  who  meets 
us  with  such  smiling  tenderness  in  the  morning 
of  our  being,  whilst  warning  us  by  deeper  intui- 
tions of  the  insufficiency  of  these  earthly  condi- 
tions for  our  highest  development ;  whilst  teaching 
us  to  regard  this  earth,  with  all  its  pledges  of  a 
present  affection,  merely  as  the  threshold  of  our 
being,  merely  as  the  school  and  the  playground 
of  our  childhood ;  while  inciting  us  by  sterner 
commands,  as  well  as  by  loving  encouragements, 
to  seek  our  glory  on  the  theatre  of  a  distant  eter- 
nity,—  can  you  believe  it,  that,  in  the  laws  pertain- 
ing to  that  eternal  existence,  in  the  conditions 
prescribed  for  attaining  this  crown  and  consum- 
mation of  our  blessedness.  He  has  shown  Him- 
self only  an  unfeeling  taskmaster? 


142  SERMONS. 

What  must  be  the  doom  of  him,  blessed  with 
the  Hght  of  all  these  revelations,  who  will  have 
nothing  to  say  at  the  final  judgment  but  "  Lord, 
I  knew  thee,  that  Thou  art  an  hard  man"? 


THE    END. 


Cambridge :  Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  John  Wilson  and  Son. 


